The Hawk Deck 12:14
Under a heralding
of Blue Jays
and a back drop of waves
I am scrubbing My Canvas
My Old, 23 Year Old
giant map of Canada
where once a Maple Leaf
was painted on Quebec
where now it is pieces
having been left
blowing off wood piles
in Atlantic
I am reclaiming My Stake
in The Work
of “Satellite Art for Extraterrestrials”
to commemorate The 14 Female Engineering Students
killed in Montreal
on December 6th, 1989
before Peak was even
2 years old
The Hawk Dining Room 1:50pm
Yesterday I went back
to the home of My Children’s
earliest childhood —
it stood with dry grass
recently mowed —
a stone bench I had forgotten
under the apple
where I planted myrtle
slowly spreading —
I found My Red Leather Baseball Mitt
left-handed
in an upstairs closet
full of toys
and in the hatchway to the attic
I hoisted My Shoe-less Son
now 28
one-footed upon My Clasped Hands —
He was looking for My Early Sketches
a mysterious tube
of blue-prints displaying the roof of #5 World Trade Center
We failed to find —
as He came down
He pulled the light bulb string
straining to reach it
and when He let go
the slightly-too-short string
sprung back on itself
without the light turning off
and so My Greatest First Love
had to step into My Hands
a second time
He lowered Himself finally
to a painted kitchen chair
flexing His Lumberjack Muscles
— His Right Upper Arm still scarred
from when He toddled
to a cup of too-hot herb tea
unwittingly set within Peak’s easy reach
upon Our old kitchen table
in the little wooded house His Father and I restored
to cherish
