Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: death

WEEK 7

The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 2:16pm

I have planted My First Rose Bush

“Knock-out Pink”

under Our New Sign saying The Blairs

in iridescent white

printed with a Blue Jay —

Chicken Polenta is made for The Kids

and can be baked anytime

and We’ve been invited to Their Grandfather’s

Memorial Service Friday Afternoon —

tomorrow night My Tree-planting Darlings

and one Mexican Collie

are to be collected

from the airport four hours away

and I will be making ham sandwiches

to take

and a Duncan Hines carrot cake

fortified with chopped pecans

just to have on hand

AND WHAT ABOUT THE SHOOTERS?

The Hawk Deck 3:57pm

Once, on a Canadian Grey Hound

a man called schizophrenic

under a voice’s command

beheaded a fellow passenger —

was He on anti-psychotic drugs

only to be locked away forever

in a place for the criminally insane

and drugged and drugged

until He dies?

A SAD LITTLE POEM

The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 9:15pm

I think I fatally injured

an innocent spider

down in the cellar

cleaning out the kitty box —

did I sweep Him too hard

with the broom?

I think I may have stepped on Him

as He crumpled up and then lay flat

moving only briefly

before I put Him in My Palm

and emptied Him

into the trash

ASIDE FROM MY PERFECT PREGNANCY IN 1994

The Hawk Deck 4:04pm

Since that first spring of 1993

with a ten-minute diagnosis of schizophrenia

crowning My Head after My Mother’s Death

and a summer’s hospitalisation for depression

when a psychiatric nurse tried to assure Me

“There will be other summers” —

how could She have known

there wouldn’t be a straight one

until now, twenty-three years later,

when My Second Husband

allows Me to throw

My Bed-thrashing Knees

across His Hip

in the dead of night

and reads My Extensive Medical Records

on His Lunch Break

to find out what happened?

LAST LEG

The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 4:30pm

I have come through

an oven of madness

I have been broiled

and poked

for The Life of My Daughter

for My Son since He was five

when I made a pact

with My Self

that I would never feel

the pain of the loss

of My Mother

and found instead

the love that sustained Me

through My Temperature Gage

of Molten Silver

and Highest Reverie

I have spoken

of My Vile Nature

black with burnt offerings

of Salvation

for The Masses

yet to come

I am out

on the table

for dinner with My Starving Family

My Ex Husband I loved

in the sun

of Our First House,

a tiny one

I am out,

reposing

to be eaten now

with Mint Jelly

from the shady side

of My Mother’s Well

 

POEM IN THE NIGHT

Eliza’s Room 5:45am

Oh where does My Cow Bird go

when He goes to sleep?

I have seen Him take His Lunch

from a neighbour’s feeding station —

I check His Return

to My Side Mirror

faithfully listening

for His Watery Warble and Squeak

THE LONGEST DAY OF THE YEAR

Down On The Hawk Beach 4:15pm

I am sitting beside a rock

and Oh not just any rock —

it’s a rock the size and shape

of a giant brain tumour,

brown and cut apart at the edges —

it doesn’t scare Me anymore

I listen to the waves instead

at My Right —

the rock is to My Left and I will go

away from it

as quietly

as I came upon it

WHERE I HAVE THROWN THE WRECKAGE

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

PORTRAIT OF A LEAFLESS TREE

The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 6:29pm

Our Back Yard houses

one lichen-covered Scraggly Apple

looking like a swath of coral

showing off any bird

deciding to perch there

by the deck

and beyond the kitchen

sliding glass door

from which I gaze

out to Our One-tree Yard —

source of My Undying Affection

EYE ALMOST SMASHED M(EYE) LIFE GLASS

The Hawk Queen Bed 8:38am

I didn’t want to get up

this morning

after standing prostrate

in the window cross

of the TV Room

for two hours

after My X Husband

hung up on Me

when I asked Him

about My Paintings

He had dumped

and while I stood there

with My Arms out-stretched

I saw A Speck

on the ceiling

and I revered It

as The Speck

of My Abortion

He forced Me to have