The Hawk West Desk Window 8:38pm
Fall is finished for Me now
as soon as I saw
Its leaves along the grounds
of My Husband’s Office
–
No other flurry of fall
will strike Me the same
as This Summer’s Turning
Its brash array
scattered before The Edifice
of My Husband’s Career
Fifty Falls in the making
The Hawk Kitchen 4:47pm
The Sky around here
is so dramatic:
The Heavy Greys
of low-lying Clouds
move across The View
out My Sliding Glass Doors
with The Sun hitting Their Layers
— The Clouds, not The Doors —
while I sit on A Cat’s Ottoman
in My Pretty But Humble
Kitchen
watching
A Gull pass over
illuminated in Silver
The Hawk West Desk Window 2:45pm
I used to go to churches
and found them hollow places
Who there would hear of My Unstoppable
Shower Of Lights?
Who there could understand The Depths
of My Enclosed Depression?
–
I used to go to churches
looking for companionship
in the rawness of being broken open
like the delicate egg
I was trying to carry
–
I used to go to churches
when I wanted to die instead —
where no Minister could make Me
whole
and no friend could balance Me
–
I used to go to churches
and now I am Home
years beyond the fragility
in the compatibility
of My Marriage
where My House is
My Church
The Hawk Basement 11:25am
My Eyes for Our Visions
My Nose for Our Memories
My Mouth for Our Delight
My Brains for Our Dreaming
My Breasts for Our Sustenance
My Genitals for Our Desire
My Arms for Our Embracing
My Hands for Our Work
My Feet for Our Mobility
–
My Innards for Our Digestion
of Me
My Heart for Our Love
Joanna Gilman Hyde 