How pleasant that was
having Eliza bring out Her Laundry Basket
to fold Her Clothes beside Me
as We both sat on The Stoop
listless in The Afternoon Light
— no wind —
mild enough for bare feet or socks
while We imagined what kind
of House Wife She would be:
“Better than You,” She said
I said, “So rich You would have a maid”
“So rich I could micro-lend
to poor women in Saudi Arabia”
The Hawk West Desk Window 10:22pm
I was That Ballet Dancer
twirling madly in any psychiatrist’s fantasy
exposing My 101 Split-second Facial Expressions
aimed at an imaginary upper corner Camera —
or was It Imaginary?
in a room of no furnishings
except for one rubber mattress
repeatedly blanketed over
by Me
to grow a garden
of hair & spit
before My Assemblage
got
WRECKED-ified
The Hawk Portico 5:00pm
Boy am I glad I got
My Canadian Citizenship
— at first I thought
I had to relinquish My American
but I didn’t —
so I got My Canadian in 1995
I call My Self a Dual Citizen
Born American
Canadian By Choice
and as a Canadian, under
the provisions of the Citizen Act and,
as such, [am] entitled to all the rights
and privileges and [am] subject
to all the duties and responsibilities
of a Canadian Citizen
The Hawk Portico NOON
When I hear The Squawk of The Jay
It stirs something in Me
some nebulous touch of nostalgia
I cannot put My Finger on
It has something to do with My Childhood
or My Growing Up
solitary in Valley Cottage
maybe in The Backyard Woods —
I had few friends:
one kooky one
Who always chanted “Hyde Hyde —
Take Me Outside”
when I was happy to oblige
after some pretend reluctance
I once stood before a window screened
with hardware cloth
in an institution
of not My Choosing
–
from an upper storey
I stood there as if
before a microphone
I called out
to imaginary Children below
to save Them from the water’s edge
to save The Gulls from extinction
The Hawk Portico 1:15pm
On A Day Like Lovely Today
Eighteen Years Ago
I Laboured All Day
With My Daughter
Who Was Hardly A Labour
Born Into An Inflatable Pool
@ 9:04 That Night:
She Came Out PERFECT
The Hawk Red Deck Chair 12:15pm
Oh My God! — That’s My Mother
Telling Me To Write This Poem
— It’s The Chickadees
flitting around The Scraggly Apple
telling Me to write down
what I did one Christmas
in Cooper Union —
I asked My Unmarried Economics Teacher
to be a Christmas Present
for My Mother
& He said Yes!
so I wrote Mom a note
for Christmas Morning
that a Man was coming to visit
He came to Christmas Dinner
in Valley Cottage
— My Grandfather was there too —
now Pappy, The Teacher, My Mother, My Brother
are all dead
but The Chickadee-dee-dees
are alive
& chirping
When I was a Child
I decided to be an Artist
so I could paint paintings
to hang in My Own House —
I would have My Own Art
surrounding Me as I have now
with The Sea, The Sky & Sounds of Birds
–
I am wearing My Purple Robe
out on The Deck on a grey day —
dry & still — I hear The Waves
& drink My Tea
thinking of My Full Self
& The Flies that buzz
around Me
Joanna Gilman Hyde 