I See A Piece Of The Universe
on My Husband’s Urban Tribe Sweater
washed in Tide
in and out Tide
& dried in Bounce
to get The Fuzz off —
but I’m afraid
I’ll have to use
The Lint Brush
Now
What Do I See On My Lint Brush?
The Scattered Crumbs
of Lemon Loaf Cake
brush off My Black Lap
like a speckling of stars
& down The Cleavage
of My Tattoo Sweater
like Those sucked inside
My Very Blackest Hole
INDUCTING THE BLACK SWAN
I have seen The Post Card
from Tommy of Mexico
wilted on My Daughter’s Mirror
across from Her Bed
where I first met
The Boyfriend of Currency
–
Today I do The Laundry
Dressed In Black:
Black Tank, Black Capris
with My Silver Necklace
& Silver Hoops
–
Hunter, My Practising Husband/Doctor
may not go to Work
tomorrow
and I may not
see a friend
dat De-Press-ion ain’t
gonna git Me agin
no matta how It come
lurkin’ around
–
It ain’t gonna stop Me
from doin’ de dishes
–
eatin’ Ma suppa
–
It ain’t gonna stop Me
from drivin’ wid Ma Baby Girl
out to La Creamy
Treat
in de settin’ sun
I just woke from a dream
of being hurled to a prison floor
with My X Husband’s German Shepherd
lying on Me, peeing on Me
so I couldn’t get up
I couldn’t call to that dog I once cared about
Someone got Me out
assigned Me to a Shower
when I stood before Her
I announced, “This is because of dog urine”
She said, “You danced all night once in My House”
The Shower was open to a room
filled with teenagers giggling and watching
as I stood naked
under a series of levers,
some of them broken,
I chose “Stream”
and was assailed, blasted
and again could not breathe
Someone chose “Rain”
and that was better, lighter
but then Someone made “Iridescent Bubbles”
pop out of a circulating shower bar
overhead
and I was happy
There’s powder on My Face
My White Sweat Shirt
over My New Black
Push Up Bra
I put on Black Socks
old jeans that still fit
–
I’m off to shop for The Makings
of Stew
with My Cans still rattling
around
in My Black Escape
–
The Noon Radio News reports
“rising tide levels along coastal regions
& severe weather events
in the coming years.”
gonna bomb dat RJ
shitting on His Rock
gonna lay up My Fire Ball
on dat Emergency Tag
gonna hit every car
every crib, zillions
bomb dis hole fuckin worl
Joanna Gilman Hyde 