The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:15pm
That Shower Of Silver Lights
My Shower
cleansed Me not of sin
but of all Darkness
ensuing from that stultifying depression
which was Its inevitable outcome —
I see Its Silver still
on The Ocean
I see It in My Daily Shower
I carry Its Light
free of burden
and transpose It
into
My Own Personal
Effulgence
The Hawk En-suit Bathroom 1:22pm
Eye-level to Me
as I stand before
My Bathroom Window
is The Full Curve
of The Hawk Beach
and to The East
The Full Ocean —
looking down upon
My Yard
I see My Carved-out Drive
full of snow
and The Occasional Crow
flying by
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 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 Window Seat 11:08am
I have just done an Heroic Deed:
I pushed Dr Blair’s
Old Black Lincoln
out of a snow bank
and on Its Way to work
leaving Me behind
in snow-covered pyjamas
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 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 Hawk Window Seat 5:56pm
From My Bedroom Window
The Sky View to The North West
affords, at nightfall,
a scape of salmon-coloured clouds
low to The Cape
glowing above the stalky spruce
with The Cape Light shining
flashing, emitted
from The Luminous South
Joanna Gilman Hyde 