The Tomato-coloured Couch 1:50pm
Eye have seen my first and last
Flock of goldfinches flitting
Amongst thistle-like flowering weeds
To have become my summer backyard–
Tomorrow it gets mowed
By a man I have yet to meet
In an effort to move my house
Into the rest
Of this tidy neighbourhood
The Hawk Deck 7:15am
The Sun looks like a planet
Glowing this morning
Inside a feathered cloud
Of not fog — a lateral segment of cloud
Radiating multitudinous lines of white
Along its southern reaches
The Hawk Corner Room 6:28am
Before the first glint of sun
I heard three notes
From a distant Loon —
The ancient sound of comfort
From a source I had not known
Since I was first divided
In My Mother’s womb
My Big Bedroom 6:25am
Eye reject the “love”
Of those blue-eyed creatures
Of sly smiles
And jolting gestures
Trying to put me
Inside the very boxes
Of their belongings
Eye want out of My House
My Bedroom 8:30am
I upheld
His strong left arm
Couched around my shoulder
As we crossed an old street
In Sag Harbor
Over thirty years ago —
My neck has been starved
For a man’s working fingers
And I have worn a black bow
Ever since
The Hawk Corner Room 6:20am
Not so depressing
To watch the sun go down for
It’s always rising
Port Clyde, NS
The breeze of a grandmother’s kitchen
Wafts in,
Complete with Kitty Kitty
On the window sill —
And a crow named “Mo”
— wrought iron but thin —
I am allowed His Chair
And privileged I will stay
Until The Day
Eye Die
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 4:30pm
Gully wants to make SURE
I Feed His Friend —
He sat on the rail and refused
My handout of chicken
And flew instead to His Companion
On a neighbour’s barn roof —
To sit with Her
And mewed, together
The most plaintive of mews
The Tomato-coloured Couch 12:45pm
Today Eye fed a flock of gulls —
My Son was right —
Gully called all his friends
When he saw my plate
Of fries from last night —
He opened wide his big yellow beak
And threw his beautiful head back
To yell his loudest yell
And the big white creatures
Congregated — one crashed
Into the Scraggly Apple
And the leftovers were gone.
The Hawk Corner Room
Eye would infinitely prefer
To see the deep orange
Of Self Organizing Galaxy
At dawn along the moonlit blue
Of The Atlantic
Than The Western Sky
At evening which is only going
To disappear
