Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: home

Re-shifted

Hey WHB — how come

you didn’t defend me

that time Eye was demonstrating

with a bread knife saying

“Eye could prove a point with this”

BECAUSE THERE WAS NO POINT —

why didn’t you tell Eliza

Eye was being your favourite type

of humour: “ironic”

instead you called the Mounties on me

and had me hauled away in an ambulance

to the psych ward —

how come you never defended me?

Is The Price Right?

Every Woman Knows

Prostitution is Marriage

With Every Bed Made

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.

 

 

He Didn’t Hear Me

In My Favourite Restaurant

Eye overheard The Waiter

Talking to The Cook:

“How can You have time

for God and Your Wife?”

Eye called out from My Booth:

“What if God and Your Wife

are One and The Same?”

Sun Worshipping

I sat and sat

to catch The Rise

fulfilling My Daily View

Eye turned to let a cat

inside

and beheld

My Sun-struck Pew

DEAR SANTA

The Hawk Corner Room 4:50am

EYE am gonna put on M(EYE) Clown Face

& leap around M(EYE) House In Time

to Classical Music in The Breaking Dawn

Soul Town in The Afternoon

& maybe Hip Hop @ Night

when M(EYE) Back

unkinks —

My Husband likes Me Now

 

THE WONDERS OF SNOW

The Hawk King Bed 7:50am

EYE am Back

in My Husband’s Bed

in the wee hours

as His Guest

& Maid

but not as His Personal Dresser

EYE may or may not Cook

for Him

but I will no longer argue

& I will Dance & Dance & Dance

to M(EYE) Heart’s Content

TIDINESS

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

galaxies

allowed

PAINTINGS BY ASLAM ABOUJAMRA

The Hawk Corner Room 4:10pm

My Prison, My Sanctuary —

what I used to name Dr Blair’s

Big White Castle

where He worked hard and lived hard

for over thirty years —

is delightfully exposed

now, at The Foot of Dr Blair’s Big Brown Bed

here on The Hawk —

The Bed I have finally decked out

with new sheets and new comforter

in blues to go with His Eyes —

The Big Brown Bed in a pea-green room I left

in My Flurried Escape

returned to last night, but just

to sleep —

this morning I took down

The Lee Savage Drawings

facing Us:

A Woman (Lee’s Wife) with just lips

and Its Mate — Lee and Karen’s Open Porch

(on “My Side” of The Bed)

— Now, This Morning, I put up

The Frameless Oils

painted by The Syrian Brother

of One of The Doctors sponsored

by Dr Blair in 1999 —

The Year of Our Fateful Affair

— They’re A Pair of gaily painted

Houses —

The One on the left

is a small white house Dr Jamal Aboujamra

rented from Dr Blair —

and The One on the right

at My Night Time Feet

expressionistic-ally depicts the largest residential building*

in Barrington Passage

no longer owned by My Captor

swirling in brush strokes

of pink, peach and green —

The Giant Cedar

obscures high windows

of The Victorian Rooms

I floundered in

on couches and beds

while Dr Blair worked

in His Attached Office

I lay there and dreamed

on anti-depressants and Olanzapine

and wrote what would turn into

a book of poems

titled “No Bones About It

stored somewhere in the basement

of Our House here on The Hawk

where I have finally found My Self

My Art, and Jesus to boot

in Jethro Tull’s Aqualung

played on The Canadian French Radio

while working on My Secret Painting

here in My Own Little Corner Room

where I am finally free

 

*Dr Blair’s Big White Castle burned down on the same morning in December 2017 I left for Christmas vacation in British Columbia — to spend with His Family and My Kids — without him.

FOR M(EYE) 2nd X HUSBAND

The Hawk Corner Room 1:02am

EYE have seized The Sky

up here in My Corner Room

where I can paint all day

if I want to, or go to the beach.

I’m cooking for One

and enjoying every minute of it

with My New French Canadian Radio to keep Me company.

Tonight I sorted through My Clothes

and am choosing to wear Those

of no particular significance,

and if You too, My Lovely Daughter

happen to read This

or have It read to You,

please know that I love You always

and will never violate

Your Adjacent Room