I’m lying on My Tomato-coloured Couch
— did I say It’s very comfortable?
Looking up at My Crow Painting
— I need My Glasses —
The Living Room Window is Open
to The Southerly Waves
at My Head
with Eliza’s Horse Blanket
over The Rest
My Husband/Doctor tells Me
The Sound of The Waves
works on The Pleasure Centres
of My Brain
like a narcotic, like opium
or nicotine or cocaine
& I say The Sound relaxes & invigorates–
I am addicted to The Surf–
It crept up on Me
over the course of these two years
& I never knew I could be so healthy
I Hear My Waves
Through The Trees
My Fog Has Settled In
In My Chair
I Sit & See
My Years Have Hardly Been
I stepped out on The Deck
into The Early Morning Sun
— with My Clipboard, Pencil
Cup of Coffee — I looked out at The Atlantic
& decided to be A Writer.
–
I determined to fix A Poem:
The Greatest Date — written A Decade Ago —
–
I would fix The Ending mostly —
isn’t it The End
which usually needs attention?
–
& worked away
in That Dazzling Sun, in old sunglasses,
listening to The Breaking Waves, Birds
& My Husband stirring in The Kitchen
feeding The Cats
Joanna Gilman Hyde 