The Hawk Living Room 7:30pm
I ate My Potato Salad
& drank a beer
here by the open Living Room Window
at the edge of The Tomato-coloured Couch
but that was at the edge of The Galaxy
where stars burst & die
I would lie My Head on a blanket
& listen to the aftershocks
wafting through
on the surge
of ocean mist
& bird call
The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:33pm
What happened to That Long-haired Girl
Who painted That Giant Canvas
on The Roof of #5 World Trade Center?
I heard She turned 52
& writes in Her Journal
sitting on Her Tomato-coloured Couch
in Her astral-cork-floored living room
surrounded by beaches & dunes
waves & bird life
while Her Son starts a tree-planting job out West
& Her Daughter finishes correspondence courses
for Her Last Year
of High School
Shelburne, NS 12:30pm
Take The Power
That Is Yours
From Your Hair
Your Dress
Your Silver Jewellery
–
Take The Power
From Your Mind
Your Dreams
Your Aspirations
–
Look To The Sky
What Birds Do You See?
Are They Black Or White
& What Does That Mean?
The Hawk Dining Room 12:50pm
He’s out there write now
pecking around the stone wall
dividing our property from the neighbours’
He’s a Northern Flicker
with a brilliant red crest
on the back of His Head
black bib under His Chin
(if birds have chins)
tabby striping on His Back
& buff with black spots underneath
He’s been here since I first spotted Him
at the other stone wall along the drive
— He seems to find stuff
among the rocks
with His Long Beak — He’s a Woodpecker
Colaptes Auratus
Oh, He just pooped!
Note: He’s a She – minus a back “moustache”
The Hawk Kitchen 2:45pm
My Morning Ritual is over
I’m not sorry — We’re trying to save the birds
in the backyard — a compost section
in a hedge may have been the culprit
— I would throw My Daily Banana Peel
there as I munched in contemplation
standing in My Bathrobe
or Pyjamas
until My Astute Daughter
pointed out that birds go after My Leavings
& Our More Limber Cat(s?) go after Them
COULD I PUT MY PEEL
IN THE NEW COMPOST BUCKET UNDER THE SINK
AND STILL TAKE MY BANANA OUTSIDE?
The Hawk Portico 2:10pm
I live in a spring-sung aviary
— it has no cage —
I sleep to the peepers
birds mark the day
they have no boundary
but the shore beyond
I live My Life in sustenance
long past the unsung
chapters I wrote
devoted to loss —
now I am here
with wings
as My Cross
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:28pm
Numerous Little Black Birds
of an unknown variety
spun Themselves into a bulbous school
& flew around behind
with My Head in A Whirl
to see Them light
straight-lined on a wire
The Hawk Corner Room 11:34am
Today I Saw The Thinnest Line of Birds
Flying North
I Watched Them ‘Till They Vanished
And Lateral Clouds With Single Gulls
Took Over
February 22, 2013
Dear Mom:
The Time Has Come For Me
to write You a Proper Letter
as an astute friend
pointed out tonight
I never had —
nor allowed My Self —
any Time alone with You
after You died.
–
I left Your Hospital Room Immediately.
I made The Arrangements for Your Cremation
on no sleep
and when You came to visit
in the Form of A Chickadee
eyeing Your Coffin Boards
still I did not linger with You.
You landed on My Finger
and I did not speak.
I was in A Trance
broken only by The Greatest Event
ever to befall Me:
The Shower of Silver Lights
crashing down on My Head
four days after You Died.
–
I thought I was The Second Coming of Christ
and saw The Meaning of Life
that night in My Hospital Room.
The Next Day, April Fool’s Day
a chipmunk/leprechaun of a doctor
told Me I might be A Seer —
well, that was IT —
I followed That Little Man
for The Next Two Decades
and thought of Him
as My Divine Partner
until yesterday
when I flung out into The Ocean
a sculpture of Him
made out of aluminium foil
off a pizza slice.
I also threw out
The Little Balsa Wood Box
You gave Me
because I had written His initials and Mine
inside.
This was not done without days of trepidation
but I did It
and I wish You could have done something similar
to get rid of Your Little Man —
a pain You bore since I was nine.
–
So Now I Am Alone With You
and I Love You.
You were My Greatest Love–
and without You I had to foster
a replacement —
and not just a new Husband —
an entire fantastical existence
which is now
finally
concluded —
thanks to You
and to My Awareness
of How Much You Meant To Me.
–
All My Love,
Joge
Joanna Gilman Hyde 