The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:15pm
I do not wonder at My Father’s Death —
how It was for Him
as I wonder at My Mother’s
My Father may have been asleep —
He died in the night
as far as I know
but My Mother was wide, wide
awake
& blazed Her Eyes open
except for one torturous blink
which opened back up
in Her Last Guttural Heave
The Tomato-coloured Couch 12:15pm
This Morning My Daughter reported waking
to the song of multitudinous bird-life
the dehumidifier tray was full
but She had no hot water
in The Atlantic House —
My First Marital Home
with Eliza’s Father
Who picked the colours
& built an addition
complete with screened-in porch
off Our New Bedroom
I sat out there in the shelter of the screens
in My Post-Mother’s-Death Depression
& wondered, along with everyone else,
why I was not happy
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:30pm
She left tonight for Her Cottage —
Eliza’s Cottage — The Atlantic House She partially grew up in
It’s fifteen minutes closer to Her Summer Job
& She took the dehumidifier from The Hawk
to get the dampness out
She took Her Vegan Food from the cupboards
& left most of Her Clothes in Her Closet
The Lincoln She left in was making Its high-pitched scary noise
but She drove away
anyway
The Hawk Portico 7:44pm
I have an attitudinal stance
toward The Surf
Its Sound
projects My Hips forward
My Arms are casually folded
My Head juts
from a profile view
I might be sloped like an S
from the back
I would look held in
crouched
like The Nautilus
The Hawk West Desk Window 4:11pm
I have A Voodoo Pain
at the inside of My Left Upper Arm
It’s telling Me to Right Write
telling Me to leave My Tea
telling Me to describe The Pain:
“It’s Itchy, Man!”
pulsating
not now, not now, not now
is It gonna happen again?
I do want My Tea
I’m gonna go get It —
(came back)
NOW — The Pain came again!
but what am I supposed to Right
— how silly — to be Writing
about Righting
ooh — again!
It’s My Left Upper Arm, Near My Elbow
It’s a panging itch
lasts about a second —
–
If I could Write anything
what would I Write Right Now?
ooh — It came
what would I Write without losing My Audience?
Only That Which I Am Capable Of Knowing:
My Self
I Write about My Self All The Time
I Love My Self
but I see My Self as only Half —
–
I went to the bathroom
& The Pain continued
I think It’s telling Me
to keep Writing:
I have another Half
in The Form of A Little Man —
I’m gonna make another Cup Of Tea
–
I’m back
My Rings were on the sink
I put Them on
I Love My Rings
They’re Mine
They have no Halves
I let in My Black Cat
Astro Jasper Cosmo
He’s All Mine
though My Husband Loves Him Too
My Tea is steeping
I haven’t felt another Voodoo Pain
I’ll go check My Tea
Look at all the “I’s”
going Write down this page!
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:11pm
I hear The Peepers through My Left
Surf out to My Right
My Left Hand rests on My Husband’s Thigh
My Pills I’ve taken for The Night
The Day is closing, nondescript
though visited Mother-in-law (ex)
to make sure Eliza’s Prom Dress zipped
(It did)
made home-made pizza —
was a hit
in bed now, early
quit
The Hawk Queen Bed 10:00pm
I Know What
is going to happen
I Know What
is happening
I Know What is Going
to happen
I Know What
is happening
(arms bent up & out to the sides
head facing up)
We Are Ushering
in a new era
We Are Ushering In
The New Age
Joanna Gilman Hyde 