The Hawk Queen Bed 9:11pm
I am going to paint
The Shower Of Lights
Yes — That Creepy Shower
which befell Me
on that famous date —
no — not October 22nd, 1993
BEFORE THAT — March 31st, 1993
I am going to do It
Justice
I am going to order
a 10-foot-long x 5-foot-wide
piece of canvas from Halifax
to be shipped — yes
I will be waiting for art supplies
again, but this time, this time
I will be ready
Tonight Marks The Thirtieth Anniversary
of The Signing of
Thank You For Watching
The Hawk Deck 8:45am
I’ve caught the liquid sun
to the call of The Chickadee
I see iridescent blue now
when I close My Eyes
& look again
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:35pm
I am in the psychiatric unit
of My Mind
sitting on a vinyl couch
waiting for the day to end
waiting for supper @ 4:00
making My twenty-fifth cup of tea
but in My Reality
I am BACK — on MY COUCH
tomato-coloured
with My Big Black Panther
at My Feet
& potato salad
in the fridge
The Tomato-coloured Couch 9:22pm
There is Divine Logic
in All that happens
& It wouldn’t happen
otherwise
The Hawk Deck 8:20am
At Night I go to sleep
with the sweep of Cape Light
turned to My Bed
in the morning I wake
to step out on My Deck
immersed in the dew
with the waves
at My Head
The Hawk Outpost 6:49pm
The Scraggly Apple
is illuminated
with the eastern clouds
a rare mauve pink
The moon is up
My Fuchsia Painting is finished
& My Husband has said
I can hang It over
The Tomato-coloured Couch
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:07am
In The Depths of Depression
sunk inside a psychiatric unit
I would wait through each day
until I could ready My Self for bed
take My “Meds” at 9:00
put on My Pyjamas
& try to sleep
only to have to face the morning
& the same old Hellish repeat
–
Here On The Hawk
I Put On My Pyjamas
Relaxed
& Go To Bed With My Husband
& Rise Happy
To Check On My Painting
& Drink Our Morning Coffee
The Hawk Utility Room 7:56pm
I stood above
My Mother’s Killer
dying on the basement floor
I thought of all
I’ve done to fill Her
and now can sleep
forever more
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:19pm
My Mother’s Brain Tumour
is dying
on the basement floor
is soon to be
enveloped by
perhaps a silver heart
but
the “roots”
will
survive
