The Tomato-coloured Couch 1:15pm
I held a wafer-thin slice of home-made bread
and breathed to My Self:
“This Is The Staff Of Life”
I placed The Slice, along with The Remainder of The Loaf
on a white plate
and served It to The Crows
in the snow out back
The Hawk Window Seat 11:22am
I Am Advertising My Self
But I Am Not For Sale —
I’m Free!
–
The Hawk Living Room NOON
She Cried, “I AM IN LOVE!”
& Then She Died
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:07pm
Black Jesus sits in The Snow-Sun
with Her Serengetis on
— a new stylus in Her Silver/Onyx Pen —
She’s on Her Tomato-coloured Couch
a cushioned platform
from Which to make Public Declarations —
Coffee House plays
What will She utter Today?
What will The Grown-up Version
of The Little Child point out
for The People’s Participation —
a crack at understanding
Our Innate Sensibilities?
Our Lived-in Sensitivities?
“What are You waiting for —
We are Alive and Our Humanity
is Our Most Precious Gift
Given To Our Selves
BY OUR SELVES”
The Hawk Living Room 9:30pm
I’m standing, hovering
above My Mini –
fireplace — My Candle
abra in the center
of My Chinese Coffee Table
I just had to write about
it, here in the dark —
no Other Lights are on
I am writing like a blind woman
Yet I have just had the
satisfaction of eating
a President’s Choice
Decadent Chocolate Chunk
Sandwich Cookie
with My wool-socked feet
up before the
flames
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:20pm
The Fall Of Joanna Gilman Hyde
Has Been My Greatest Climb
I’ve Found The Words I’ve Needed To Use
& Boy I’ve Made Them Chime
note: Death of Mother, Elizabeth Walden Hyde, March 27th, 1993
The Tomato-coloured Couch 10:22pm
In The Evening of My Living Room
I caught the very last glow
of My Little Chinese Tea Light
which, when I looked at It
through the top of My Glasses
provided Me with a visual recount
of The Shower Of Silver Lights
which befell Me
in all Its slashing, flashing
Glory on March 31st, 1993
and Which I have faithfully recalled
to My Mind’s Eye
in the broad light
of every day
since
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:41pm
I’m not trapped by Black
— that’s Black Jesus —
I’ve thrown away all
My Black Clothes
& I’m in Grey now
I still write in books with Black Covers
& The Black Ink comes leaking through
making Me sit up straight
legs crossed
Right Hand
adroitly holding
My Onyx Pen
tipped in Silver
The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:15pm
Dr Blair’s Wife dressed in grey slacks
dark grey sweater with gold zipper
rings upon Her Fingers
LL Bean upon Her Toes
drove Her nearly new Ford Fusion
to The Little Coastal Store
on Cape Island
to buy six packs of cat treats
for seven cats
two pork chops
two lesser cuts of red meat
to listen to Fatboy Slim’s
on the way
Home
The Hawk Kitchen 2:59pm
an immobilized fly
knows no secrets
adhering, somehow, to the outside
of My Living Room Window
— I thought He was a spy —
when I wanted to write
“What Do I Most
Want To Say –“
and for Whom?
“For My Self”
— I saw He had died —
January 30th, The Tomato-coloured Couch 1:28pm
I Am A Woman
For Whom Future Is Now, Now
Past Now Is Now Dredged
Joanna Gilman Hyde 