The Hawk Kitchen 8:53pm
Today I was instructed
to “Be The Artist You Want To Be”
— I AM —
I see pieces of The Universe
in sink pans
laden with the makings
of Fully Formed Galaxies
so much so that I
am One Of These
I am A Galaxy morphing
into The Rest Of The Universe
& I Love It
The Hawk Kitchen 7:12pm
I wonder if I’ll ever be
an old woman
with a kerchief over My Head
working in a garden
with rubber boots
and black soil
staining My Bony Hands
The Hawk Outpost 3:10pm
It’s A Nova Scotia Day
— I Can Tell Just By Looking —
The Wind Is More Than Brisk
Waves Are Breaking
Farther Out
Amidst The White Caps
The Air Is Clear
& My Big Black Cat Astro
Wants To Come In
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:30pm
There’s enough white
pick-up trucks
to go around
to everyone
like Me
Who doesn’t make a wish
but feels
security
in the white
mobility
of man-made
design
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:22pm
I take My Medication
to keep My Power in check
otherwise I would not sleep
& I would be powering all over
the house
& out into the yard at night
& God knows where —
I would be unstoppable
& I would have to get apprehended
by The Mounties and/or ambulance attendants
to wind up in The Yarmouth Psychiatric Unit
where They would lock Me up
in the so-called “Therapeutic Quiet Room”
where I would pound & pound
& drum & drum on the steel door
until They came in & held Me
down
for an injection
against My Will —
It’s Black Power
of Which I Speak
The Tomato-coloured Couch 8:04pm
Imagine My Black Frying Pan
hailing globules of bacon grease
coagulating into Silver Orbs
slowly swirling for aeons
–
Imagine Me Washing My Hands
under the tap, soapy water
disrupts that Universe
chancing for a new
set of bubbles
The Hawk Window Seat 4:27pm
Today My Black Jesus
Outfit List
inadvertently, but with My Consent
went into The Hands
of A Young Man
in Whom I have My Faith
as An Artist
as A Writer
as A Person
as A Creator
I hope His Acquisition
finds Its Way
into His Future
The Tomato-coloured Couch 8:30pm
It’s been a Winter
of dying dogs & Dads
& a dear old Mother-in-law
settled into Her Husband’s
room of departure
in a tiny hospital
with, I’m guessing
the same fiery sun
going down in front
prompting Me to curtsey
Joanna Gilman Hyde 