The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:15pm
That Shower Of Silver Lights
My Shower
cleansed Me not of sin
but of all Darkness
ensuing from that stultifying depression
which was Its inevitable outcome —
I see Its Silver still
on The Ocean
I see It in My Daily Shower
I carry Its Light
free of burden
and transpose It
into
My Own Personal
Effulgence
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:07pm
Black Jesus sits in The Snow-Sun
with Her Serengetis on
— a new stylus in Her Silver/Onyx Pen —
She’s on Her Tomato-coloured Couch
a cushioned platform
from Which to make Public Declarations —
Coffee House plays
What will She utter Today?
What will The Grown-up Version
of The Little Child point out
for The People’s Participation —
a crack at understanding
Our Innate Sensibilities?
Our Lived-in Sensitivities?
“What are You waiting for —
We are Alive and Our Humanity
is Our Most Precious Gift
Given To Our Selves
BY OUR SELVES”
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:22pm
Mrs Blair sits in Her Hawk Living Room
furnished sedately but for
a staircase painted red —
She ponders the significance
of Humanity
and wonders if the music on Coffee House
is telling Her things
She should pay attention to
–
seltzer sits fizzing in Her LIFE Glass
on the glass coffee table
and She’s about to eat
some leftover pasta salad
before contemplating
Her next
3 seconds
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:04pm
Every Instance of My Life
Every Moment before I was conceived
has added up to where I am
right now, in this New Moment
writing in the dusk of My Favourite Living Room
on A Piece of Land I own
on An Island where I feel welcome
in A County I have traversed
in A Province I favour
in A Country where I am proud to be A Citizen
on A Continent which identifies Me
on A Planet I Love
and will Love
until I die
The Hawk Queen Bed 10:22pm
“Hey Everybody! This is God
yes, G-O-D
One of You, All of You
here, as always, to tell Us
We have a correction to make —
in case You were wondering
I am female —
52 years old in Body
infinite in Mind:
Caucasian North American
with a psychiatric history
not permitted to carry a firearm
but I can wear a bullet-proof vest
to guard My Castle-by-the-sea
where I live with My Husband
the very popular Dr Blair
& My Daughter, the very beautiful Eliza
& seven cats —
I’m not kidding around —
on March 31st, 1993, after four days of no sleep
induced by the death of My Mother
I had The Shower Of Silver Lights
crash down on My Head —
I thought I was The Second Coming Of Christ
but I didn’t want to give Christianity
that much credit
so I simplified My Title
My Essence
into Those Three Little Letters
& no, I don’t knowingly control the weather —
it controls Me
& yes, I believe in eternity
& The Sacredness Of Human Life
OR I WOULDN’T BE HERE!!”
“It’s Time To Hear My Rallying Cry
to sort out Our Miseries
Organize
Our Desires
Our Abilities
forget Our failings
Uphold Honesty
for where has Honesty
gone?
It’s Time To Apprehend
My Leadership —
I offer up My Self
for I am One Human
Who has seen The Light
& Knows It To Be
The Light Of This World
Our Precious Little World”
The Hawk West Desk Window 1:20pm
What orchestrates The Music
of The Universe?
What perpetuates The Orbital Spin
of Our Galactic Bodies?
Our Home Planets?
Time It cannot be
for Time is a Human Construct —
What then in Its Own Magic
raises Our Suns & Moons
guides Us through Our Days & Nights
allowing Us to Breathe?
The Hawk West Desk Window 3:55pm
Women The World Over
sit on tomato-coloured couches
with wads of dough
between Their Legs
kneading to the rhythm
on The Radio
while Their Men
as handsome as They are
go down in The Basement
to work The Bowflex
The Hawk West Desk Window 4:11pm
ICONIC POWER:
WESTERN FEMININE APPEAL
COLLIDES WITH ISLAM
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:05pm
My Voice is My Calling
pulling Me forward
into What, at What
I’m not sure
but I am feeling
a Gut Reaction
to The State Of The World:
My Innards Are Awkward
& telling Me so
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:55pm
I will not light a candle —
I will light a candle
for The World
to resurrect Its State
of Giving
to Foster The Feat
of Humanity’s Beginnings
We must cry out
for Our Selves
for more than just Our Families
We must cry out
and act
for Our Place
in The Line
of Evolution
Joanna Gilman Hyde 