The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 8:21am
I See Silver
On The Ocean
‘neath An Opalescent Sky
One Fishing Boat
Sits Along The Horizon
A Gull & Crow
& Smaller Fry
Fly By
& By
The Hawk Deck 9:36am
I Am The Vessel
of Life
consuming inordinate quantities
of water
retaining fluid
in My Head
& Limbs
I hear the call of The Mourning Dove
& The Grackle
on This New Spring Morning
I think of what My Life
contains:
My House
My Husband
My Far-away Kids
grown now
with Their Own
Lives
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 8:40am
The Sun is Silver
again on The Water
I see It Teal Green
when I blink
I steal It through
My Eyes
& Mind
& harbour It
beside Me
The Hawk Corner Room 5:35pm
If I could I would
gather The Whole World
like A Lover
& hold It inside
of Me
Speck that It is
I would lay It on My Tongue
& moisten It
with My Lips
I would roll It
over My Gums
& send It toward My Throat
I would consume It
& have It course
through My Veins
like isolated blood
& never through
the finality of
digestion
NOTE: I just saw
a little red star glint
at Me as I filled
My Life Glass
The Hawk Kitchen 2:42pm
I see A Zillion Suns
swirling in My Spaghetti Sauce
Frying Pan
They’re speeding up as They approach
My Wooden Spoon
floating
then taper off
taking
forever
to
stop
Halifax, NS 1:55pm
I saw A Little Girl
quickly stroking Her Nanna’s Hands
out-stretched on a cafe table
She — The little Girl —
had on a Silver Heart
& played with Her Elder’s Hands
until Her Mother
took The little Girl
to the bathroom
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:22pm
Laced through the window
closed against the cold
I hear the peep of peepers
against the roar
of stormy waves
seeping through My Extra Blanket
enveloping Me
in All I Know
The Hawk Kitchen 2:48pm
I know what it means
to be a housewife:
picking lint galaxies
off Your Husband’s Shirts
doing a light load of wash
for A Grown Daughter
Who’s off to be
with Her Grown Brother
wondering if Your Children will appear
for supper
Joanna Gilman Hyde 