The Tomato-coloured Couch 9:22pm
Tonight I stood before
that incorrect microwave clock
to watch it turn from 10:20
to 10:22
& saw My Reflection
with hands clasped
in that deceitful pose
photographed on A Child’s Christmas Morning
when I stood before
a brand new blond dolly
I didn’t like
The Hawk Living Room 3:11pm
Guess how old I was
when I engaged
in the following activities:
–
Tearing into strips
the striped vinyl cover
to My Dollies’ changing table
& wadding the shreds
up in My Fists
to stuff in My Mother’s
waste paper basket
–
Clutching Two Hundred Wedding Photos
to My Chest & throwing Them
One By One
to The Night
along the ample length
of water frontage
in the Town of Shelburne
–
Emptying The Entire Contents
of My Second Husband’s Brief Case
cradling The Papers in My Arms
casting Them aside
Piece By Piece
into The Twilight
along one mile of old rail road track
through Barrington Passage
–
On a clear day in June
Shredding Five Known Copies
of My Own Manuscript
So Long Sam
taking seven hours
consuming as many beers
& putting Three Bags Full
out by the side of the road
November 6, The Hawk West Desk Window 9:35pm
I saw The Pain
of His Parents’ Separation
flash across His Teenage Face:
six years later
when to My Son I felt I could confess
a poisonous love I husbanded
too long
am husbanding still — now My Daughter
runs Her Mother’s Risk
of another broken home
the one Eliza’s been homesick for
all Her Life
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:34pm
I have arranged a vase
of Eliza’s dried roses
sitting below two framed portraits
of Africa
My Beginning
I began in Gabon
for My First Year
photographed in Dr Schweitzer’s Arms
I have been in The Arms
of Doctors
ever since
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:22pm
I have saved every Dozen Roses
of Eliza’s
hung upside down
& dried out
in vases, arranged
two dozen still hanging
from Me, old boyfriends
one treasured young man
staged in My Kitchen
doubled dozen in cut glass
petals laying themselves out
on table tops
falling to the floor
scattered up the stairs
crunching in Her Bed Room
all their colours subtly muted
drying into generic mauve
as they lose their moisture
their scent
taking on the scent of age
of years
The Hawk Queen Bed 10:18am
I dove into a Floridian Pool
against a backdrop
of pool-side haze
& old people
In the middle somewhere
I held an infantile hand
in My Left
& used it, shamelessly
to masturbate
successfully
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:45pm
I have delivered A Prayer
— The First I’ve Ever Written —
through The Sacred Postal Service
but I don’t know how
My Children’s Grandfather
will receive It
The Hawk West Desk Window 7:38am
A Teenager’s Lament to His Mother:
“You had Me believe in Santa Claus
You had Me believe in The Easter Bunny
Now You ask Me to believe in God?”
The Hawk Dining Room 3:53pm
I rest My Chin
in The Child’s Posture
between My Fists
I contemplate The Greyness
of My Ocean
It’s All Mine
nobody
can steal It
away
I
will
hold
It
to
Me
within My Veins
within My Flesh
within My Insides
I Am The Salt
I Am The Water
I Am Here
in The Child’s Stance
Joanna Gilman Hyde 