The Hawk Living Room 3:42pm
When I was A Child Of Sex
I swallowed The Semen
of anonymous men
unremembered — the men
not The Taste —
now in My Upstanding Years
I have sex with One Man
and besides
We don’t do That
The Hawk Corner Room 11:45am
Love which can be pulled back
is My Grandest Weapon
how It arms Me
in The Dark
as It has for almost half My Life
It levers Me into The Remainder
for I will keep this Love hidden
and use It only if I have to
like The Crow Bar under My Bed
The Hawk Portico 5:50pm
I have fallen in love
with the spirit of the sea
encroaching as it does
upon the scrub spruce out front
and behind —
I’ll take them any day —
they house the birds
I thrive upon
they become enmeshed
in the early morning sun
and mist — outlining each branch
as if it were a star
how I love the wild here
the unleashed surf
and even, yes even
the occasional car
or truck
traversing the pavement
of My Southern Boundary
to The Atlantic
The Hawk Portico 2:22pm
–
The waves speak to Me
not as a neighbour would
but as a mother might:
“Shhh, Joge, Shhh
Everything Will Be Al-right “
–
The birds speak to Me
of the waves beyond
as if the chirps & calls
& singular silver notes
are accent marks
to the surging shoreline
–
The fog speaks to Me
through the echo of its horn
semi-distant
complimenting
the readied speech
of melodic birds
& the steady rush
of tide
–
The insects speak to Me
landing on My Pages
as if in observation
of My finalizing penmanship
telling Me to go ahead
“Soak it all in and
let it all out”
The West Desk Window 10:30pm
What is being heard
in the primordial surf
swooshing its way through
My Bedroom Window —
is it the surge I heard when My Father’s Sperm
rushed to make Me
when My Mother’s Egg
swelled and grew
to the whoosh of Her Womb
Hers and Mine?
The Hawk Corner Room 7:55pm
Are We the only planet
aligned between a sun
and a moon
in perfect symmetry
to house
Our Selves?
The Hawk Deck 11:15am
The Birds of My Childhood —
I have Them All Here:
The Back Woods Jay Squawk
of Valley Cottage
The Low Brush Cheep
of The Chick-a-dee-dee-dee
The Harsh Cawing of The Morning Crow
on McNutt’s Island
The Hearkening Bleat
of The Summer Willet
from My Old Jordan Bay
–
These places I will never see again
but They Call to Me Still
The Hawk West Desk Window 9:42
The Moon lived with Me
for a short while
from The Time Of My Conception
to The Time Of My Death
It stood behind Me
as A Halo Of Silver
and I lived with My Shadow
where ever I went
The Hawk Portico 4:15pm
Silver is not a barbaric relic
as Gold has been called
Silver as a standard of measurement
is tried & true
I may be worth millions
in a very short time
as I have bought into
The Sterling Which Fell On My Head
at a specific date
one sunny afternoon
over twenty years ago
& Which has been incubating
ever since
Joanna Gilman Hyde 