The Hawk West Desk Window 1:38pm
Today I counted and weighed
My Volumes Of Writing —
38 Journals and My 364-page Typed Manuscript
weighing in on the bathroom scale
at 39 pounds
counting Birk’s largest bag
in-which They are contained
valuable to Me
nearly indecipherable to anyone
other than Me
& ready to hit the auction block
when I die
PS
In the meantime
I have put a pillow
on top
for a cat bed
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:22pm
I have saved every Dozen Roses
of Eliza’s
hung upside down
& dried out
in vases, arranged
two dozen still hanging
from Me, old boyfriends
one treasured young man
staged in My Kitchen
doubled dozen in cut glass
petals laying themselves out
on table tops
falling to the floor
scattered up the stairs
crunching in Her Bed Room
all their colours subtly muted
drying into generic mauve
as they lose their moisture
their scent
taking on the scent of age
of years
The Hawk West Desk Window 10:44am
I pulled up The Evening Blind
on Today’s Morning
on A Big White Truck
passing Our Living Room Window
showing Me I am On Track
I will not lie in bed
I will row on My Rowing Machine
take A Shower
and make Eggplant Parmesan
The Hawk Dining Room 1:05
The Fog Clouds are shifting rapidly Right to Left
South To North
as I look out My Dining Room Window
determined to capture Their Silver Evocation
of the higher clouds
to capture Them
speeding away from the upper, more stationary
grey silhouettes
of backlit Silver
The Lower Fog Clouds are moving in streaks today
rather than the bulbous blotches
of yesterday
as I look They’re getting thinner, thinner
revealing more & more Silver cloud behind
Oh there They go!
and there They’ve left the magnificent skyscape
brimming with molten undulations
of My Precious Metal
The Hawk Portico 3:15pm
I can hear The Waves
in one direction
& watch Them in another
The Fog Clouds dissipate
underneath a patterned sky
& I am momentarily in The sun
The Tomato-coloured Couch 11:30am
I met a Nice Young Man
with a husk in His Voice
on the pedestrian walk-up
to The Yarmouth — Portland Ferry
New Year’s Eve 1985
–
I had been dumped on the highway
by My Arguing Mother
and had to get a ride to New York
–
Peter Lynn Haeghaert was His Name
and He had been visiting His Father for Christmas
After discovering We were both visiting parents
and We were both artists
He agreed to drive Me into New York City even though
He lived on the Eastern End of Long Island
We caught the tail end of a Holiday Inn Party
and shared a room and slept in separate beds
–
Not only was Peter an artist — He was available
In January I invited Him to an ice cream party
and He drove the fifty miles into The City
and took Me out to dinner
In February He sent Me a home-made Valentine
–
I didn’t see Peter again until May
when I went out to Sag Harbour
armed with Two Friends
Who liked His Blond Apartment
and the $50.00 picnic He bought for Us
which We enjoyed on a beach
in the company of a topless Irish girl
On the way back to NYC, one of My Friends
suggested I ask Peter His Birthday
and when It was discovered to be June 22
plans were swiftly made
to visit again, this time picking strawberries
& drinking champagne
–
Our last official date, numbering Four
Peter chartered two tickets
aboard a sail boat for The Statue of Liberty Centennial
with it’s 4th of July fanfare of food and fireworks
–
Peter came into New York City one last time
before we planned to go to Nova Scotia together
but He didn’t stay as long as I would have liked
& I deliberately slept with someone else
–
August in Nova Scotia
My Mother cornered Peter on Her Island Bed
with coffee in the morning
and asked Peter what His Intentions were:
Peter looked at Me and smiled
and said
“I would like to marry Joanna
and live in Nova Scotia”
October 11, 2013 The Hawk Queen Bed 10:50pm
I took off My Purple Sweater
& laid It in the laundry basket
nestled around My Big Black Cat Astro
I saw The Colour Purple
next to My Cat’s Blackness
& saw My Giant Satin Lips again
that Monument To Sex I sewed & stuffed
for a Cooper Union sculpture class —
body-length zippered pillows I presented
dressed in Black, I kicked off My High heels
butted out a cigarette
unzipped My Fierce Creation
& climbed in
sunk unseen down inside The Fuchsia Lips
zipped back up
The Hawk Deck 8:57am
I can stand on My Deck
in the faint morning sun
to hear the waves more audibly
than usual —
I can hear the chickadees calling
briefly
I am so grateful
(but You know that already)
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:55pm
White Trucks are mechanical Angels of Mercy
I saw One driving out of the polling station today
after voting for My Liberal MLA
(Member of The Provincial Legislative Assembly)
Whom My Husband says is Pro-Life
Joanna Gilman Hyde 