Port Clyde, NS
The breeze of a grandmother’s kitchen
Wafts in,
Complete with Kitty Kitty
On the window sill —
And a crow named “Mo”
— wrought iron but thin —
I am allowed His Chair
And privileged I will stay
Until The Day
Eye Die
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 4:30pm
Gully wants 2 make SURE
Eye Feed His Friend —
He sat on the rail & refused
M(eye) handout of chicken
& flew instead 2 His Companion
on a neighbour’s barn roof —
2 sit w/ Her
& mewed, together
The Most Plaintive of Mews
The Tomato-coloured Couch 12:45pm
Today Eye fed a flock of Gulls —
M(eye) Son was right —
Gully called All His Friends
when He saw M(eye) Plate
of fries from last night —
He opened wide His Big Yellow Beak
& threw back His Beautiful White Head
2 yell His Loudest Yell
& The Big White Creatures
congregated — 1 crashed
into The Scraggly Apple
& The Leftovers were gone
The Hawk Corner Room
Eye would infinitely prefer
To see the deep orange
Of Self Organizing Galaxy
At dawn along the moonlit blue
Of The Atlantic
Than The Western Sky
At evening which is only going
To disappear
My Bedroom 5:50am
see “Story of a Map”
Using the back of my car
Protected by an old lavender sheet
From Eliza’s bed
Eye am gathering cans of paint
Mostly full
From the well-organized
Waste Management Facility
On the 103
And stacking them
Rust and all
On my front portico
Where I once sat
Like a statue
Contemplating a former life
My Bedroom 8:50pm
Eye will wear the famous
Black Oprah Dress
From so long ago —
He will wear white
And sit across from me
@ my round marble table
Faded from
The Eastern Light
Of my never years
The Hawk Corner Room 5:40am
What sweeter sound
To be awakened by
Than the song of a bird
Or a lover’s kiss?
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 5:25am
Eye see The Hawk
Skyline:
Silhouetted tree tops
Individuals
Against the dawning North —
Heights
of The Srub Spruce
I had never considered
My Bedroom 6:05am
My external bundle of white
Thick cotton Terry cloth robe
From Hammacher Schlemmer
IS my mountain of pain relief —
The Opiate
The Antidote
before people
die
The Hawk Kitchen 5:30pm
Today I cried out
In my repetitive voice
For the immortal flesh
Of Silver
Which descends from my mind
And not anybody else’s
Because it came to me
When I was unafraid —
I have it in spirit
In vision
But I am in need
Desperate need
Of its weight
In hand
Joanna Gilman Hyde 