Hawk Point Road 2:50pm
The Sun Shines
a variegated halo
over the southern tip
of Cape Sable Island
the land I live on
where I confide
in very few
& get My Groceries
on the notes of Joy Division
The Hawk Window Seat 10:52am
Years ago I left a house
with home-made curtains
& wooden floors
My Children both were babies there
& I was young with motherhood
& early marriage I thought was happy
until the onset of a tumour
inside My Mother’s Head
The Hawk Queen Bed 12:18pm
I see The Deep Purple
of My Prescribed Nap
I hear The Fog Horn
against My Muffled Ear
The Rain is on The Sky Light
My Eyes are strained
against My Note Book
held in The Damp Dimness
of My Sleep-deprived
Afternoon
The Hawk Out Post 4:30pm
Eye walk to The Sky
held inside M(eye) Kitchen
Out Post
never am Eye lost
for answers seen within
layered clouds
of pinkish grey
& peaks of rooftops
gilded in the amber light
of M(eye) Earliest Evening
The Hawk Out Post 1:06pm
I stand with My Morning
Coffee
in The Afternoon — delayed
by a fluky power outage —
I’m still in My Pyjamas
but it doesn’t matter
when I get My Shower
I Am A Free Woman
in love with the strapping band
of Ocean before Me
& My Forever Sky Above
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:00pm
In December 1970 I wanted to possess
badly wanted
A Pair Of Love Birds
green & red —
sitting so close
in the local pet store
I had My nine-year-old heart set
on Them & cried to My Mother
that I had to have Them
to which She replied, “Joge, what if One Of Them
dies?”
Instead, on Christmas Morning I found
a beautiful Indian Ring Neck Parakeet
but He died That Day
at the bottom of His Golden Cage
& destroyed
My ability to see
The Singularity Of God
Tusket, NS 11:45am
When are We going to stop
hearing why Christmas should
or shouldn’t be —
or what it should or shouldn’t
be for?
Like an open van-load of toys
in a car dealer’s show room
to attract any child’s attention
with a sales woman’s pronouncement:
“It’s for the kids —
that’s what Christmas
should be for –“
Eliza’s Lavender Room 7:36pm
The Second Coming of Christ
has moved out of Her Husband’s Room
to afford greater access
to sleep without cats
— a temporary move —
but now to live
in the singularity of mind
DIVINE & HUMAN
as She programs Her Self
to open up The World
by saying “Good Night”
to Its mammoth past
The Hawk Outpost 1:50pm
With The Sublimity of The Morning
with Me making coffee for three
with Eliza baking blueberry muffins
I thought to write of a garden
I was taken to see
by an Acadian Nurse named Emily
Who thought I’d like to walk
across the hospital parking lot
across a curving back street
to a stranger’s yard grown up
with flowers I don’t remember —
but I remember The Walk
& found It, or One like It, noted
in My decades-old medical records:
“Patient enjoyed Her Walk.”
The Hawk Queen Bed 11:04pm
What Does It Mean
To Be Human?
To Top The Chart
One Bell Curve
Of Human Behavioural Spectrum —
To Sit Up There
Like A Star
Growing Into The Nebula
Reaching Out
To Very Vast Edges?
Joanna Gilman Hyde 