Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: existence

LUNCH

The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:37pm

God is sitting above

a sky-black plate

eating Her bagel sandwich

dropping an array of crumbs

on the outcropping

of The Cosmos

MINE

The Hawk West Desk Window 1:22pm

Mine is The Face

He fell in love with

monitoring My Pregnancy

with My Son in 1987

Mine is The Stomach

He patted at the end

of each appointment

Mine is The Voice

He adored in Its Stridency

October 22, 1993

when He allowed Me to tell Him

“There is A God”

Mine are The Arms He caressed

Mine is The Brain

He used to send His Telepathic Message

on Divine Love

Mine is The Body

He refuses now to doctor

BLUE WORLD

The Hawk Portico 2:00pm

I have the luxury of gazing

out over the azure blue

of The Atlantic Ocean

of listening to The Gulls and Crows

for Whom I must be some small part

of Their World

as They are such a large part

of Mine

MY BLIND POEM

The Hawk Deck 9:57am

Were I to lose My Eyesight

could I still see The Patches Of Colour

The Sparkly Lights

I’m free to see now

whenever I close My Eyes

or would I be immersed in Pitch Blackness

& what does Pitch Black really look like?

MAIL

The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:22pm

On My Way To The Mail Box

I Passed A Roadside Spread Of Asters

Pale Lavender Star-shapes Against The Golden Grass

And Auburn Leaves Of Fern — There Was No Mail

But As You Can Guess

That Hardly Matters

CALL TO THE DECK

The Hawk Deck 11:10am

The Day On The Deck

Is So Still

I Can Hear The Echo

Of The Crow’s Call

Harsh, Yet Circular

Rising In A Crows’ Chorus

From The Scrub Spruce Nearby

Here Beside Me

Perhaps A Buzz Flies

RECESSION

The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:33pm

I sit in That Golden Light

until It, or I,

goes behind A Bank Of Cloud

THE PSYCHIATRIST’S PRAYER

The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:22pm

Once I wore black

for My Favourite Psychiatrist

Jesus Black — black velour sling pants

black push-up bra

briefly hidden by a golden tee

which said “Trust In The Lloyd

My FP asked if I had made the slogan

I told Him, “No, it came from a movie”

and tore off The Tee

as I sat on an unforgiving mattress

on the floor

of The TQ Room — not a room — an unforgiving space

euphemistically named The Therapeutic Quiet Room

— My hair was longer then

blonder

I might have looked wild —

My Tall Psychiatrist

stood above Me

and looked at the ceiling

and said what I presume

was a prayer

I don’t even know

why He was in there

and I certainly do not know why I was

Note: related passage in The Script

https://joannagilmanhyde.wordpress.com/?s=The+Script

THE WISH

The Hawk Deck 11:22am

That same spot of Ocean

where I saw The Sun come up

this morning

is vacant now

beyond the scrub spruce —

I cling to It

as one might a heavenly body

in twilight

& perhaps even

say a wish

THE PRAYER

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