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
The Hawk Portico 5:15pm
One year out of art school
I rose to stellar fame
— or tried to —
when I painted the roof
of The World Trade Center
& fended off The Director’s
romantic advances
He’s dead now
so I’m free to write
that I did NOT sleep My Way
to the top
that MY TOP has not been reached
yet
But It’s Going To Be
In My Lifetime
even if I have to die first
The Hawk Portico 4:55pm
While putting on My Shorts
to sit out on My Hawk Portico
I had the Realization
that I write about Place
more-so than People —
that My Poetry describes the environment
I live in
& that if I lived anywhere else
how different would it be?
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
Joanna Gilman Hyde 