The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 8:59am
Silver on The Water
Silver in The Sky
The Thermometer is low
The End is (nearly*) Nigh
–
I am wide awake
The Coffee Pot is on
I have My House full of guests
ungrateful for The Dawn
*redundancy
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 12:50pm
The White Man Came
upon Indian (Native) soil
& took possession
with trinkets & knives
& drink
from another land
to stake a claim
to the ruination
of Fundamental
Humanity
The Hawk Queen Bed
8:00 am
a disheveled looking Gull
got His Breakfast
of 1 slice of white bread
thrown in chunks
left-handed
like a girl
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 1:22pm
I will change out of My LL Bean Cashmere Sweater
out of My Reitman’s grey stretchy pants
I am upstairs now @ The Hawk West Desk Window
about to order My Self
de-clothed:
off with My Everyday Sandals
keeping on My Dark Grey Underwear
& galaxy filament-ed bra —
I am about to cloak My Self
in My Warm Grey Bathrobe —
There! I did it!
& I’ve left My Smoky Crystal Dangly Earrings
on
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 9:50am
I looked for A Silver Streak
out upon The Water
& saw A Silver Cloud
instead
meshed within
The Sky
parallel to
My Horizon
The Hawk En Suit Bath 6:44pm
Remove The Crust
of Aeons’ Years —
Dispose of Your Treachery
into My Hallowed-out Hands —
within These Sinister Bubbles
I Reside to Exhume
The Blackest Blackness
of Faith Gone Awry
The Hawk Deck 1:16pm
The Hedgerow Rustles
Like The Waves —
Each Swoosh Swooosh
Sinks Into Me
& I Soak Up The Agent
Of My Life
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 8:05am
This Morning’s Light
has blended into The Sky
The Houses on The Beach
are silhouetted against The Sea
The Hedge Row rustles
through My Outpost Window
Our Coffee has been steeped
The Hawk Deck 9:45am
I have A Plate
that’s square
& glaring red —
I use It for cheese & crackers
& banana bread
baked by a friend
& bestowed upon
new cottagers
who say
“See Ya!”
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 3:28pm
I take out
My Star-studded Kitchen Mat
& shake It in The Wind —
I sweep the mangled cobwebs
off My Sliding Glass Door —
I keep My Green-checked Apron on
over My Peachy Capris
& cross My Knees
in My Grandmother’s
Wrought-iron Kitchen Chair
preparing to call a friend
Joanna Gilman Hyde 