The Hawk Window Seat 2:22pm
When Next I Saw
The Blue Jay
I Saw That It Was He
Sitting High Upon A Wire
Readying For Flight
To A Far Off Place
Where He Would Stay
With Me
Forever
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:32pm
Let Me Find My Silver Pen
To Write On Your Forehead
As You Lie Back
With Your Eyes Closed —
Let Me Write On You —
Above All
I Love You —
You’re Not Going To Die
You Will Have Your Fill Of Dreams
Happy And Bad, Terrible Even —
But You Must Go Through
The Terror
And Comfort
Of The Night
In Order To Wake —
Go To Sleep My Precious World —
Let Me Rock You To Sleep
Let Me Draw My Label
My Signature
On Your Forehead —
Let Me Find My Red Felt Pen
My Permanent Marker
To Draw Upon You
Above Your Eyes
A Fleshy Heart
Filled In With Red
Out-lined By Black
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:15pm
The Message I received
from My Divine Hallucination
of the head of The Beautiful Dark Haired Woman
on My Right Shoulder
Who said, “You Know The Meaning Of Life
And So You Are A Star —
so go to sleep”
may have been, now, telling
The Whole World
to go to sleep —
perhaps it is not awakening
We need —
it is Sleeping and Dreaming
celebrating The Night
Our Darkness
to find Our True Selves
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:41pm
I was once walled in
by plexi-glass & counter tops
filing cabinets & indoor-outdoor carpeting
My Performance of trying to live or die
was put on display
& written about in nurses’ journals
I was made to eat food
I could not taste
& made to shower
when all I wanted to do
was drown in the tub
Now I Am Here
on The Hawk where the only wall
makes up My Kitchen Glass Doors:
They Slide Open
I Can Walk Through
To The Outside
To The Bird Calls
Of Life
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:30pm
I once looked in a mirror
in My Private Bath
behind My Room
at The Yarmouth Regional Psych Unit
to see a face
I did not recognize:
slouched, forlorn, perplexed
The Face I See Now
in the multiple mirrors
of Our Hawk House
is MY FACE
The Hawk Queen Bed 10:22pm
We will travel to distant stars
to walk upon lands of other planets
We will taste food yet un-savoured
& dress in garb yet only dreamed of
We will swim in salted coves
salted by the sweat of billions
We will fly our mini star-packs
through the sea-clouds of air yet formed
We will dance along valleys
& surge forward into night
We will set Our Selves loose
to gallivant with Our New Found Friends
Our New Society Of People
like Us
with Whom We will play
with magical swords
forged from metals more precious
than gold
& with Whom We will die
momentarily
at The Hands
of Lovers Divine
The Hawk Dining Room 7:35pm
Black & White Swampie
Sphygmomanometer Bound
Curls Cat Over Cuff
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:08pm
I remember clearly
that sinking feeling
of having no choice but to lie down
on a couch or bed
for want of Living Life
where I covered My Self
with a blanket or Afghan
knitted by My Mother-in-law
to take as some form
of comfort
to get through
an endless day
out of weeks
months
years
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:44pm
I have written words
I have painted pictures
I have never sung a song
Has there been enough
of Me?
When will The World stop
to assess My Persona
d’Artiste Extraordinaire
Who has yet to live
to Her Fullest Capacity
under the guise
of —
nothing
Joanna Gilman Hyde 