The Hawk West Desk Window 8:11pm
By this time tomorrow
We’ll have a chorus of cat bells
around the necks of five nude cats
(one hunter has two bells already)
after the fact
of one tiny yellow bird leg
a gut the size of a dime
and three yellow feathers
left by Somebody
on My Sacred Deck
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 8:4am
A pristine line of Silver
augments My Grey Horizon
I woke this morning @ 3:30
and took a Melatonin and Gravol
and slept from 5:00 to 7:00
ignoring the scratching of cats
to put the coffee on
@ 8:00
My Doctor/Husband has My Pile of Medical Records
from The Yarmouth Regional Psych Unit
spread out on His Library Floor
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 4:30pm
I have come through
an oven of madness
I have been broiled
and poked
for The Life of My Daughter
for My Son since He was five
when I made a pact
with My Self
that I would never feel
the pain of the loss
of My Mother
and found instead
the love that sustained Me
through My Temperature Gage
of Molten Silver
and Highest Reverie
I have spoken
of My Vile Nature
black with burnt offerings
of Salvation
for The Masses
yet to come
I am out
on the table
for dinner with My Starving Family
My Ex Husband I loved
in the sun
of Our First House,
a tiny one
I am out,
reposing
to be eaten now
with Mint Jelly
from the shady side
of My Mother’s Well
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:12am
Last night I dreamed
all night it seemed
of a car being repaired
with trays of crystalline candy
delivered by a female mechanic
to the body of the vehicle
My Brain?
outside My Bedroom Window —
an exhausting dream
but necessary
for My Most Restorative Sleep
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 6:14pm
I missed the cutest waddle
of a mother duck and Her Ducklings
crossing The Hawk Road
while I was zooming
sleep-deprived
to get to The Little Store —
I swerved to avoid the adorable clutch
and got mad at My Self
but not mad enough to slow down
in time to take in
the rare amusement
of Their very serious venture
The West Desk Window 11:25am
Eliza’s lovely little room
was an assignment
for Me to sleep
and By God I slept —
I slept and woke —
woke and slept and dreamed
and tossed off My Love Ring Quilt
and watched The Sun emerge
from The Eastern Waters —
I listened to the early birds
the crows and gulls
and song birds
and yes, the funny funny Rooster
I watched The Sun hit
the wall by the door
and now I am out of there
I have returned to My Husband
and The Cats —
the old dilapidated comforter
the mismatched sheets
and the open window to The West
Eliza’s Room 8:43pm
As I walked the lines
of shoes and sneakers
measured in the sand
I saw a track of feet so bare
veer off into the frothy foam
I wondered at the line
of tide which consumed
their salty prints
and merely as a bonus
saw
their re-emergence
further on
The Hawk Deck 1:50pm
What Does It Mean
To Be A Bird?
Not Just That You
Can Fly —
You can take care of Your Self —
feed Your Self & Your Young —
(though not Your Young if You’re a Cow Bird)
preen Your Self & bathe
stretch Your Wings & Your Claw Feet
fluff up Your Glistening Feathers & bow
Exclaim from Your Perch —
Yes, Exclaim
in Your God-given Voice
that You are Happy
To Be Alive
Eliza’s Room 9:1pm
From the kitchen
there’s a pink cloud over
The Scraggly Apple
and from upstairs
in Eliza’s Room
The Same Pink Cloud
is stretched along the beach
beyond the wooded scrub spruce
in preparation
for My Good-Night
Eliza’s Room 5:45am
Oh where does My Cow Bird go
when He goes to sleep?
I have seen Him take His Lunch
from a neighbour’s feeding station —
I check His Return
to My Side Mirror
faithfully listening
for His Watery Warble and Squeak
Joanna Gilman Hyde 