Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: cats

It Is

When Eye Rise

In The Morning

It Is To The Early Light

The Subtle Surf

and One Cat — Mine —

Meowing for Me

Cinderella In French

Cinderella was an artist

who cleaned out the kitty litter

every morning and every night.

She had no boyfriend

but got into trouble with the law

by texting her elderly estranged husband

for phone sex — text sex —

and stealing money from his wallet

to pay for it.


Her shoe size was 7 and a half.


For the whole time she poured out

a giant painting titled “American Bombshell”

on the floor of her basement

she dreamed of Prince Charming —

a lithe little leprechaun

the next town over

with whom she had shared

a magical moment

25 years earlier

and found she could love

no one else.


Cinderella would walk alone

the shores of her castle home

and converse sparingly with neighbours

who might have thought

she was a bit strange,

living by herself with 6 cats

in her high white house

litter-ally dripping with paint.


On one of her walks

she found a plastic Jack-o-lantern

and carried it all the way back

to put black glitter in its hollows

for eyes, nose and wild grin.


Cinderella had a Fairy Godmother

with jet black hair

who would wave her wand

of reason

and all of Cinderella’s fortitude

would emerge,

cajoled by her guardian’s

infectious laughter.

Her shoe size was 9.


Now at the end of April

there was to be a gala dance

to raise funds for the monolithic hospital

in the Western county over

but no one asked Cinderella for a date

so she decided

to just stay home

and paint another

cupboard door

with paint-shard applications

from her work titled:

“Stratospheric Universe”

blown apart

by a Christmas storm

to litter her yard

with slabs and chips

of hardened splashes

she could call her own.



Sun Worshipping

I sat and sat

to catch The Rise

fulfilling My Daily View

Eye turned to let a cat


and beheld

My Sun-struck Pew


The Hawk Corner Room 1:50am

EYE salute The New Corners

of M(EYE) House —

From Eliza’s Bed I face The West

Head On

and span My Naked Wrists across

The Globe

with no lint, loose strings or cat hair




The Hawk Corner Room 4:50pm

EYE Live

on a widow’s walk

with One Magnificent View —

too bad the only people

EYE have to share It with

are The Birds.


Not even The Cats are allowed.


The Hawk West Desk Window 8:11pm

By this time tomorrow

We’ll have a chorus of cat bells

around the necks of five nude cats

(one hunter has two bells already)

after the fact

of one tiny yellow bird leg

a gut the size of a dime

and three yellow feathers

left by Somebody

on My Sacred Deck


The Hawk Deck 9:32pm

I just tossed a little dead bird

off from the bank

where the X-Miss Tree lies

— a capture of Cami —

Who is provided a bell

but which the little dead bird

couldn’t hear

in its sleep


The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:54pm

Yesterday I scared a cat

at Eva’s House

with My Grey Gardens Sun Hat

still on My Head

I walked through the kitchen

and poor Kitty Kitty

freaked out —

Her Tail got fat

and she tore out

stopping to stare

in disbelief


The Tomato-coloured Couch 8:16pm

EYE can lie around

M(EYE) House

like a cat

listening to the radio

and contemplating the art

veiled statues

while M(EYE) Husband

writes a long letter

to a former Lover

of M(EYE) Mother’s

Who knew Me

as TheĀ  Child


The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 8:56am

I see the waves breaking

out past My Neighbour’s Barn

The Sky is grey

and I can hear

The Hawk Beach Waves

when I open the kitchen door

to let out a cat