The Hawk Living Room 7:30pm
I ate My Potato Salad
& drank a beer
here by the open Living Room Window
at the edge of The Tomato-coloured Couch
but that was at the edge of The Galaxy
where stars burst & die
I would lie My Head on a blanket
& listen to the aftershocks
wafting through
on the surge
of ocean mist
& bird call
The Hawk Portico 4:50pm
I seem to be developing a pattern
of going back to sleep
after Hunter leaves for work
possibly to make up for the nocturnal interruptions
of letting Astro out
back in
of waking well before the alarm
waking & waiting
to rise & make the coffee
or take out the trash
as happened today
& today I did go back to sleep
dreamed
& so resurrected the remainder
of the day
even painted a small pine table Peter built
long ago & left unclaimed
to use now in the new library
for Hunter’s Stereo
The Hawk Queen Bed 2:22pm
In Bed in lavish purple
bedding & robe & calico cat
window open to the spring
I sit This Afternoon
with My Worn Out Husband
on the remnants
of a stomach bug, He & I
reading financial reports
off His Nexus Tablet
& planning how He can keep
working, rowing
& feeding the cats
The Hawk West Desk Window 8:30pm
There’s a man out of The Tub
Who doesn’t belong to Me
He’s My Husband in name only
& stands at My Side
to watch The Opalescent Sky
& The Sun go down
with Bands of Cloud
The Hawk Queen Bed 8:57pm
Yesterday on The Trail
in Barrington Bay
I heard The Willets
The Sound of Childhood
in Jordan Bay
My Grandfather wrote
about The Willet’s song
in Anchorage Northeast:
“My own ear has seldom caught “Willet”
in the famous and far-piercing call.
To me it is pilly-will-wee,
with the accent on the last syllable,
or pill-wee-wee, with the accent
on the second,
in either case repeated over and over
and virtually always in flight.
It is a high, hurrying, questioning cry,
urgent of something I can only imagine,
a glad sound on the bird’s coursings of the shore,
a call of fulfillment(sic)
and the June-morning glory
of being alive and a-wing.”
Howard Talbot Walden 2nd
Anchorage Northeast p.189
The Hawk Living Room 1:30pm
Is It Too Trite
to write about My Old Bike
getting thrown out in the trash
along with My Cross Country Skis
Eliza doesn’t want —
My Ex Husband called this morning
promting the question
does anybody still want
My Teal 3-Speed I got for My Thirteenth Birthday?
Eliza said “no” & I said
“Are You putting it out by the road
for somebody to take?”
The Hawk Family Room 4:52pm
I Have A Message
fuelled by One Blonde Beer
sitting in A Brown Leather Swivel Chair
looking South Out A Double Window —
My Husband lists the unavailability
of Silver
by domestic bullion dealers
My Message Is: Gather Your Wits
buy what You can of Grain
& Gold
& hold onto Your Children, Your House
Your Guiding Beliefs
let not the government
break down Your Door
The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:33pm
What happened to That Long-haired Girl
Who painted That Giant Canvas
on The Roof of #5 World Trade Center?
I heard She turned 52
& writes in Her Journal
sitting on Her Tomato-coloured Couch
in Her astral-cork-floored living room
surrounded by beaches & dunes
waves & bird life
while Her Son starts a tree-planting job out West
& Her Daughter finishes correspondence courses
for Her Last Year
of High School
The Hawk West Desk Window 10:11pm
When My Husband Holds My Left Forearm
I Am In The Child’s Embrace
I Must Grow Up Into My Self
& Be The Woman Now
Without My Mother, The Single Parent
for I had no father
Joanna Gilman Hyde 