The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 3:47pm
I am growing My Thick Wavy Hair
to Its Self Organizing Length
I have already thrown out
My Black Jesus Underwear
& am taking My Black & Fuchsia
to The Salvation Army
I am wearing pale lipstick
I am taking up knitting
& MAYBE baking cookies —
The Severe Mrs Blair
has been outgrown
into The Youth of Joanna Hyde
before Her Mother Died
& She is of a quiet demeanor
Who now yells “Bless You”
when people sneeze!!!
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 3:06pm
I see The Clarity
of The Day in My Soul
from My Kitchen Outpost Window
I see The Blue of The Ocean
weight no longer upon Me
now with the waves
spraying ashore
each splash exemplifying the freshness
of My Lightened
Heart
The Hawk Queen Bed 10:04am
From the wet snow of yesterday
I see a single white wire
a line of necklace grace
where usually the black
hovers unnoticed
The Hawk TV Room 2:30pm
“I Poured Out My Black Heart”
is not to be hung.
Instead It is rolled up
& stored away in the basement
behind the bowsprit of My Mother’s boat.
I am no longer reminded
of Its Glittering “D”
& have moved into My Gracious Future
without Him.
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 10:10am
He is a kind of poison
embedded in My Heart
if He were away from Me
I could do My Art
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 3:32pm
Seeing My Halo
I am wearing My Fuchsia Turtle-neck
which I have to take off carefully
so as not to squoosh
My False Eyelashes
when I take
M(EYE) Blood Pressure
every half-hour
— I suppose I could just take My Left Arm out —
Yes — that works —
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 10:31am
I have built a fortress
out of fuchsia and black
to live within My Religion’s
confines
I will not step out
of My Cloister
I will reside
in My Nunnery
& thirst
until I die
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:35am
’twas The Life
of My Daughter
including Her Gestation
22 Years
held within the spell
of religious fervour
(or should that be fever?)
over the spectacle of a man
Yes, I’ll say it —
a scrawny man
a leprechaun
Who, I thought, spawned
the only magic
in My Life
and His
and now I don’t know
where He’s gone
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:50am
Open This Door
Come Into My Delusion
You Are Welcome Here
With Me On A Mat
of Black Satin
Fuchsia Pillow Between
My Legs
Lay With Me
& I Will Tell You
My Life Story —
Oh How I Was A Child Once —
While We Both Smoke
Our Opium Haze
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:55pm
What am I
without the love
of An Idea
rather than the man
embodying
It?
Joanna Gilman Hyde 