Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: nova scotia poet

PERCEPTION

The Tomato-coloured Couch 1:55pm

DHW

You can’t get Me

by presenting health care professionals

dressed in black

dropping Me into The Black Abyss

of the blood-letting chair

making Me have to go to The Pristine Public Wash Room

where I heavily considered drawing Your Initials

on the wall above The Mirror —

and Outside!

Everywhere it seemed I heard

Your well-used “See Ya!”

You showed Me every arrangement

of Your Initials on license plates

but I knew I could get home

where I could take an Ativan

under My Direction

NUMBER 38 (NO SIGNIFICANCE)

Public Health Office, Barrington approx. 10:00am

I am no longer in league

with The Aliens

in Their Purple & Black

I wear White & Aqua now

Beige, Grey, Dark Brown

still have My Blue Jeans

& Linen Tops

All My Black Articles

have been tossed —

Eliza took Two Black Garbage Bags

to The Salvation Army

but was mad at Me

for throwing Them out —

Hunter understands

FEELING

The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:22pm

When The Depression finally broke

I was sitting on the back stoop

of The Shakespeare House

— can’t remember the year —

drinking seltzer & red wine

reading Gogol’s Diary of A Madman

CONSTRUCT

Today I made a symbolic abortion

construction

out of My Red Lace Underwear

& Wire Coat Hanger

They’re arranged on a 16″ x 20″ white canvas board

painted with Red

& Purple

& glittery Silver nail polish

I think It looks

primitive

Indian

REACTION

The Hawk Kitchen 8:00pm

Purple is The Colour of My Heart

vacated

Silver The Colour of My Jewels —

Red is My Fury

no longer suppressed

These Three Components

sustain Me

now that The Little Man in Black

is Gone

PAINTING PLAN

The Hawk Kitchen 6:32pm

I could sit on Our New Kitchen Floor

Indian Style, like a Child

with stretched canvas

in front of Me, flat —

I could puddle The Purple

& get The Metallic Grey, Silver

oozing into The Plum

iridescent

& splotched with Red

from a spray can

liquid & interceding

out of My Lap

BLACK JOURNAL, BLACK & SILVER PEN

The Hawk Kitchen 4:30pm

I feel like physically throwing

paint around on a canvas

on the basement floor

or deck with drop cloths

& weights against the wind

an 8 X 10 footer

of purple & metallic grey

NO BLACK

hints, territories, of red

I have never before

felt this urge

NEW COLOURS

The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:33pm

I feel like throwing out

all My Black Clothes —

The Black Jesus Clothes

were for an operation

of secrecy & deceit

what colours can I resurrect?

Red & White

The Colours of Alarm

I am My Own Statement

of Alarm

Black Jesus is called off

Red is My Colour

& White is My Flag

My Canadian Flag

with Silver carrying Me

As I Fly

LETTER TO MY MOTHER

February 22, 2013

Dear Mom:

The Time Has Come For Me

to write You a Proper Letter

as an astute friend

pointed out tonight

I never had —

nor allowed My Self —

any Time alone with You

after You died.

I left Your Hospital Room Immediately.

I made The Arrangements for Your Cremation

on no sleep

and when You came to visit

in the Form of A Chickadee

eyeing Your Coffin Boards

still I did not linger with You.

You landed on My Finger

and I did not speak.

I was in A Trance

broken only by The Greatest Event

ever to befall Me:

The Shower of Silver Lights

crashing down on My Head

four days after You Died.

I thought I was The Second Coming of Christ

and saw The Meaning of Life

that night in My Hospital Room.

The Next Day, April Fool’s Day

a chipmunk/leprechaun of a doctor

told Me I might be A Seer —

well, that was IT —

I followed That Little Man

for The Next Two Decades

and thought of Him

as My Divine Partner

until yesterday

when I flung out into The Ocean

a sculpture of Him

made out of aluminium foil

off a pizza slice.

I also threw out

The Little Balsa Wood Box

You gave Me

because I had written His initials and Mine

inside.

This was not done without days of trepidation

but I did It

and I wish You could have done something similar

to get rid of Your Little Man —

a pain You bore since I was nine.

So Now I Am Alone With You

and I Love You.

You were My Greatest Love–

and without You I had to foster

a replacement —

and not just a new Husband —

an entire fantastical existence

which is now

finally

concluded —

thanks to You

and to My Awareness

of How Much You Meant To Me.

All My Love,

Joge

 

 

M’ SUPERHERO GONE

The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:23pm

I done kilt M’ Superhero

kilt H’ Sorry Ass

drowneded Him in D’Ocean

kilt His Black Self

in Dem Waves

won’t be worshippin no Spirit neither

No How