The Hawk West Desk Window 3:00pm
I have two worn out Birks Boxes
for My Single Silver Pen
re-established in Its Domain
each time I finish
writing — oh like a body
underneath a coffin lid —
lay Me down in a tomb
marked for eternity
by Ever Stylish Artists
with Their Magic Implements
recoiling
from Their Brevity
I have made an addition to THE AGE OF 122
Your Writer,
Joanna
The Hawk Kitchen 9:43am
When I reach The Age of 122
and People ask Me What’s
My Secret?
I will tell Them:
“I have lived on a diet
high in fat, sugar and salt —
fat for My Blood
sugar for My Disposition
salt for My Tears —
I have had The Love
of A Big Black Cat
named Astropythicus
to soothe My Palpitating Heart
and I have lived
in the Land of My Dreams
where every day
I took to My Magic Pen
and wrote My Life
in Stars”
The Hawk Corner Room, Home of My Globe 8:11pm
I have landed on Alert
True North
to make My Proclamation
that santa claus is Poison —
santa & his elves & raindeer
& mrs clause too
need to be wiped off
The Face of This Planet —
This Planet which is My Face
I will dedicate My Life
to The Restoration
of Children’s Minds
The Hawk Outpost 7:15pm
The early evening light
light of spring
still in mid-winter temperatures
lays itself across
the yard, weeding its way
through The Scraggly Apple
turning pinkish gold upon
My Favourite Spruce
lighting up the rooftop gables
down by the Eastward shore
The Hawk Outpost 6:00pm
I stand before My Kitchen Outpost
spaghetti boiling
to drink My 80th Glass
of brilliant water
I toast The Ocean
bluest with The Sky
My Life Glass
is up
My Sharp Horizon
is downed
The Tomato-coloured Couch 9:50am
I carried My Life Glass
full
into My Living Room
Cathedral Ceilinged
& swallowed My Water down
drinking My House
in
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:47pm
What’s going on
with the flavour
(or lack thereof)
of meat
these days?
There’s My Second Dinner
out on the grass —
The First was pulled pork
for which I had to get My Money
back
& tonight
It’s six expensive
chicken breasts
(all You could taste was the tomato sauce & mozzarella cheese)
heaved to The Crows
& sales slip
retrieved from
the garbage
Joanna Gilman Hyde 