The Hawk Queen Bed 9:30pm
Today I drove past A Big Black Crow
perched atop a pile of dirt
He struck Me by His Blackness
compared to the organic colouration of brown
He stood as The Finial Of Dignity
above a mountain of earth
His Mountain — His Keep
–singularly His Post —
The Crow made the brown Truly Brown
His Black was Truly Black
The Hawk Deck 1:00pm
Today A Horsefly
sat upon My Deck Rail
Big & Ugly
named A Creature of Satan
by My Mother —
I did not swat It
I did not kill It
I have never before
spared The Life
of One of Those
The Hawk West Desk Window 7:40pm
I hear the distant surf
coming in like radio static
whose constant frequency
is broken only intermittently
by the heckling of a gull
or by the infrequent surge
of a vehicle on the road
acting as an incoming wave
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:57pm
I Began This Day
Lying In Bed
& Now I Want
To Go Back
To Go To Sleep
With The Windows Open
Upon My Dream
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:56pm
I am feeding
on the greenery of quiet
waiting for word
from a fleet of white
Silverados
telling Me
“Now’s The Time
Just Sit Tight
We’ll Be There Soon —
The Answer Will Be Soon — ”
The opening of My Cocoon
will be applauded
The Tomato-coloured Couch 1:17pm
I Am A Woman
Who Writes Poetry
To Slice Its Way
INTO LIFE
My Tools Are Silver Swords
Forged From My Brain
Brandished Publically
To Zap
The Unaware
With Words
Of Flame
Engulfing
The Globe
&
Beyond
To The Molten Makings
Of The Stars
The Hawk West Desk Window 9:45am
Back in My Bed
on the pretence of not enough sleep
I lie in repose
and wonder the look
on The Face
of The Nameless, Faceless Doctor
Who scraped out My Dear .4
and what of it
in My Reclining Pose
had I demanded My Pieces
be saved —
saved in a jar of formaldehyde?
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
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
The Hawk Portico 12:50pm
I got The Best License Plate Ever
picked out at random from a big drawer
by The Lady at The Motor Vehicles Registry —
It proclaims: FFU
& now My Temporary License
has been removed from the driver’s side
back window
after applications of nail polish remover
& oven cleaner
to get the stick-um off
I got it off
with My Own Spit
Joanna Gilman Hyde 