In My Tidy House
The Word of God
lies stuck against the back
of My Broom Closet —
It, The Word, is in poster form
tucked away
for only Those Who
dare to clean
or to hang up an extra coat —
for My Closet
holds a rod
Eye have risen from The Vision
of standing on a big wide beach
around here somewhere
with no one there but Me
and as I stood at the edge of no waves
I felt that I was The Contaminant
and Eye called out, and out
to My Daughter Eliza
The Scraggly Apple
is Dead Butt Eye am Alive
to know It fully
We Come From The Light
Of The Star Called Sun & Moon
Why? We Must Know Why
Cat silhouetted
against the dawn screened in flat
against the bird song
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?”
How stable are We?
As paint dries colour wrinkles
collapses even
I grew up
on the edge of existence
in a place called
The Drowned Forrest
where I stood between
ancient mysteries of passion
and future enlightenment of life
without entanglements
to turn
to behold My House —
My Funny-looking House —
staring down at me
from above the beach
where I walked along the silver sea
Eye can have My Church
here, hear upon The Beach
I can walk, wake with The Birds
in the social structure of solitude
in the company of Life
Eye can shine with The New Sun
Joanna Gilman Hyde 