SELF-CONTAINMENT
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:22pm
I am self-contained
I do not need another
half
a partner of religion
of life
I can eat My Ice Cream
alone
on My Tomato-coloured Couch
and not worry
about
a God-damn
Thing
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:11pm
Nearly every morning
I gear up for My 4,000 Metre Row
on My Concept 2 Rowing Machine
with computerized clock:
My Columbia Shell Shorts
Sportex Sports Bra
Joe Fresh Sleeveless Grey Under-shirt
Anklet Sox from Eliza
& Old Nike Sneakers
make Me —
into The Basement I go
to put Classic Vocal Trance
on The Hulk (My Husband’s biggest computer)
& warm up with four rounds each
of personal exercises
I wipe down the C2 bar
on-which the seat slides
& strap My Self into the foot rests
I pull the handles
& focus My Vision on the in-out motion
of the chain
& watch The Clock
like a Hawk
for 11 Minutes & 22 Seconds
— take a clocked break upstairs —
— drink from My LIFE Glass —
& go back down to hit
22:22
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:22pm
I am sitting, aligned
with The Sun, a candle
& My LIFE Glass, The Earth
before Me, ahead of My Right Knee
orbiting My Oval Glass Coffee Table
I am in the outer reaches
of The Solar System
My Couch is an asteroid belt
& My Room, My Living Room
is The Universe
contained
in This
My
Mind
The Hawk West Desk Window 4:11pm
ICONIC POWER:
WESTERN FEMININE APPEAL
COLLIDES WITH ISLAM
The Hawk Kitchen 5:00pm
I Pledge Allegiance
To One Fat Cloud
Watched Out My Kitchen Window
Until It Shrinks From A Golden Swath
Into A Fluff Of Grey
and I lose it
The Hawk Window Seat 3:55pm
Silver-edged clouds sway
parting light to drowsy nap:
“Get Up, Make Some Tea!”
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:22pm
saw Dark Hawk in flight
against My Turbulent Sky:
Survival Power
The Hawk Queen Bed 1:22pm
Trying to take a nap
with one Ativan
& My Doctor/Husband beside Me
I am in My Underwear
with snow squalls out Our window
— I don’t have My Glasses on —
everything’s all a blurb
The Hawk West Desk Window 10:11pm
This First New Year’s Eve
for My “of age” Daughter
saw Her donning black stockings
in the back of My Ford Fusion
& tripping out to Her Fete (circumflex)
in Italian pressed leather heels
from Her Mother’s 1984
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:05pm
My Voice is My Calling
pulling Me forward
into What, at What
I’m not sure
but I am feeling
a Gut Reaction
to The State Of The World:
My Innards Are Awkward
& telling Me so