The Hawk Deck 3:03pm
We are into Late Summer now
I need a sweater on
in The Shade of The Afternoon Deck
I sit across from The Steps
with The Strata
of Leafy Hedge
Scrub Spruce
Ocean
& Sky
before
Me
The Hawk Deck 2:22pm
I was raised on an after-school diet
of fairy tales
listened to
on My Mother’s record player
with British accents I absorbed
the lamentations
of The Little Mermaid
Cinderella
Snow White
& Sleeping Beauty
& wrote in My First Adolescent Diary
“Could He Be The One?”
The Hawk Deck 12:50pm
When My Husband’s at work
& it’s nice out
I put a place-mat
on My Wrought Iron Table
& sit in a folding chair
for My One Can Of Soup
from Our Endless Basement
Supply
The Hawk Deck 10:26am
Unlike The Indoor Cat
Who contemplates going out
and goes
but not for long
I have arrived at My Fate
and will stay here
in any kind of weather
because I’ve seen It coming
I’ve felt the pull of ecstasy
I am Set Up
to receive It
Open Armed
Open Legged
The Hawk Deck 8:55am
It’s warming up
to a beautiful day
I Am Ushering In My Life
out on The Deck
I Am Eating My Banana
in a contemplative mode
listening, as always, to North Eastern Surf
dressed in My Robe
of Warm Silver
The Hawk West Desk Window 11:30am
Every Morning I Am
A Woman Of Ritual
I Wake To Open The Blinds
Re-fill The Kitties’ Water Dish
And Drink From My Fridge Spigot
The First Of Many Glasses
Marked “LIFE”
–
I Log My Self Organizing Galaxy Views
At 9:11
Or 10:22
I Row For 22 Minutes And 22 Seconds
On My C2 Indoor Rowing Machine
And Then I Take
**My Shower**
The Literal Transformation
Of My Shower Of Silver Lights
August 16, 2013 The Atlantica, Halifax NS 6:40pm
I have a beautiful Man
Silver-haired
bare-chested in My King-size Bed
playing with His Tablet
while Room Service
brings Me 20 ounces of Stella Artois
& tries not to look
August 16, 2013 The Atlantica, Halifax NS 6:30pm
Walking past the fenced-in grave yard
in the dead-centre of town
I smelled the distinct smell of pot
wafting through the tombstones
& lush vegetation
I heard a precise “Fuck You”
& kept walking
After buying this hand-made journal
I passed a seated smoking figure
Female — heaving silhouetted
smoke straight out in front of Her
in the direction of a Comrade
Who parked His Car
& asked for a light
–
*title from My Mother who wrote a short story by this title about “Them Old Fellers” in the house on McNutt Island
Joanna Gilman Hyde 