Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: spirituality

BACK FROM ATLANTIC

Highway 103, NS 2:22pm

Today I washed some dishes

left by My Daughter

in the house in Atlantic

My First Marital House

where My Third Child was conceived

and aborted on the anniversary

of My Mother’s Death

My Daughter is going to college

this weekend

My Son is out west

— I may see Him at Christmastime

and .4 — that’s what I call Him/Her —

is not in heaven

because I don’t believe in heaven

She/He is still with Me

My Body is My Heaven

CHAMBER

The Hawk Queen Bed 7:45pm

When I am old & dying

I want to lie beside an open window

letting in the waves on air

the freshest murmur of the sea

so that I may be carried off

to My Next Plateau

wrapped inside

The Nautilus

of

Sound

DANCE OF THE DRAGONFLY

The Hawk West Desk Window 10:22pm

Every night @ 9:30 I swallow a concoction

of medical remedies for sleep

— not to build a cocoon of ages —

but to bury Me underwater

like The Dragonfly Nymph

Who emerges after several years

into clear summer air

to fly the frenzied mating dance

to be admired

should She land against

the sleeve or head

of The Silver Haired Doctor

bent on examination

WHAT IS THIS ABOUT?

The Hawk Living Room 1:40pm

I made My Way through

New York City

going to bed with men

just because they took Me

out to dinner

I married for Nova Scotia

& for My Mother

then I lost Her

somewhere on The High Seas

& gained an insight

into something no one else could

sea

except — there always has to be

An Except —

One Little Man

Who unwittingly took My Heart

while My Second Husband

has My Twat

MY BOOK NAMED “SAM”

The Hawk Deck 10:45am

Two years ago I spent

an entire afternoon

shredding five copies of a 364-page manuscript

I wrote after My Mother died

I set up the shredder from My Husband’s office

and opened the first of five bottles of beer

In those next seven hours

There went all the sections, chapters

ten pages at a time

with the shredder quitting every twenty minutes —

There went the first chapter

of My Tragic Brother overlapping

My Mother’s diagnosis

October 2, 1991

of a malignant brain tumour —

There went the chapters on living

with Her Illness and Decline

There went the chapter on The Death

March 27, 1993

There went the chapter on The Cremation

with The Chickadee’s Visit

There went Me

on no sleep

for four days — There went

The Shower of Silver Lights

on March 31st, 1993

There went The Little Doctor

calling Me a “Seer” on April Fool’s Day —

There went The First Depression

There went The Magical Moment

October 22, 1993 with The Little Doctor

There went The Telepathic Message

with Him :  Dr David Hamilton Wilson

There went My Second Pregnancy —

The Baby Girl I Dreamt Up —

infant I breast fed until She was two*

There went the section on writing the book

and getting literally lost in My Work

on a rented computer

There went subsequent depressions

Dreams of The Little Doctor

There went forever, maybe,

the description of My Childhood Parrot “Sam”

whose faulty clipping job I attempted

at My age of eleven which left him

unable to fly in My Bedroom

(which for some reason I didn’t want Him to do)

but left Him able only to veer off in sickly circles

until I had to give Him up to another little girl

when He became a problem at the Canadian/US border

at each summer crossing

Finally there went the last line of the book

which I will always have, written in June of 1996

as a married woman:

“The Bird In My Hand Is Worth Two In My Bush”

*Daughter Eliza now looking for possible surviving copy

2:00pm — Daughter Eliza FOUND IT in My Stepmother’s farmhouse in Vermont

LAP DOGS

The Hawk Portico 4:50pm

I’ve learned to latch onto Disappointments

with all the tenacity of a wild-haired dog

— then I beat Them up

with all The Greatness of My Life

& think of these let-downs as transient

substituted by going to The Hairdresser

now

instead of The Therapist

WARM SILVER

The Hawk Deck 10:40pm

Dressed in My Warm Silver Robe

I have drunk the repletion

of My Life’s Waters so far

I am out on My Deck

on a windless morning

sun ablaze

I am in a haze

of happy Self

Note:  written

while My Daughter happens to be

hunting

in Vermont

for one possible surviving copy

of My 364 page

Manuscript

NO KILL POLICY

The Hawk Deck 9:51am

I don’t kill Flies any-more —

if One’s in The House bugging Me

 I try to catch It against a window

in The Palm of My Hand

I feel It beating against

My Fingers

until I let It go

outside

VORTEX/HOURGLASS

The Hawk Deck 5:40pm

“I don’t know what to think

about Time.

I can’t put My Finger

on It.”

from a friend of Joanna’s

TABLE FOR ONE

The Hawk Deck 12:50pm

When My Husband’s at work

& it’s nice out

I put a place-mat

on My Wrought Iron Table

& sit in a folding chair

for My One Can Of Soup

from Our Endless Basement

Supply