My Big Black Super Cat Astro
is sprung from My Right Shoulder
like The Head of The Beautiful Dark Haired Woman
Who told Me nineteen years ago Today
in The Most Melodious Voice
I had ever heard:
“You Know The Meaning Of Life
& So You Are A Star —
so go to sleep”
The Hawk Living Room 6:40pm
I wrapped The Corpse
of My Mother
in Saran Wrap
so I could see Her better
& carried Her inside the house
My House
so I could hear Her better
I refrained from putting Her
inside the freezer
& carried Her instead
to the downstairs bathroom
to partake in the ceremony
befallen all The Others
Note: This was written on the last page of My Keith Haring Journal
My Cat Astro
I Love So Much
hissed at Me today
when I manhandled Him
onto My Lap
I’ve never heard Him hiss before —
I will never treat Him
so brusquely again
–
I might get a tattoo
“PROLIFE”
on My Forehead —
of course I want The Cows to be happy
& The Rancher’s Mink to be beautiful
handled humanely
but We’ve got to have The Line
between Human
& Animal
The Hawk Portico 5:24pm
The Waves are brusque tonight
& the sky is grey
I’m on My Second Beer
after a day of recovering from “My Spell”
in-which I lost My Decisiveness
& other people had to plan for Me
I am not altogether comfortable in These States
luckily They don’t happen often
but They can & do
in the unlikeliest of places
like Sobey’s
or some other zoo
–
I freeze up
not knowing what to think
or My Thinking’s Hung
temporarily shut down —
the only fortification I respond to
is the Kindness of Others
& I have always been met with Kindness
Cami finally has on Her Collar
with A Bell
I drink My Morning Coffee
with Bird Hunting Gunfire
off The Cape
The Hawk Living Room 2:26pm
Why try to rectify
the capture of another Bird
by Our collarless cat
The Huntress?
This one didn’t die
It was merely shocked
but in My upset
I saw what I had left:
the embodiment of My Depression
like a terrible wound
before I found happiness
in a healing World
of My Own
The Hawk Deck 6:42pm
What is It that makes A Poem?
Is It the induction of waves
louder now than usual —
or is It a lost conversation
with a Siamese cat named Moulan
(Who seemed to be listening too)
or is It a reminder
when eating canned peaches
that I made a giant sculpture once
“Peaches & Blades”
going floor to ceiling
filling the lobby of Cooper Union’s 4th floor?
Is this A Poem?
The Tomato-coloured Couch 10:04am
My Husband feeds The Cats
— We have six —
& I clean out The Kitty Litter
every morning
while The Coffee’s on
I pan for Gold
in The Basement
& when I’m done
I play Aquarius
in My Nude Night Gown
emptying the dehumidifier
so Hunter’s 350 Folio Books
don’t get musty
We have One Cat
Who Catches Birds
It Breaks My Heart
Every Time I Pick One Up
Off The Deck
headless or legless
to throw down The Toilet
Joanna Gilman Hyde 