The Hawk Dining Room 1:14pm
Today I finished off
My Stew
like any good woman would —
It had no meat left
but I didn’t care —
I ate The Thick Broth
lovingly
and savoured The Turnips —
a vegetable about which
I have mixed feelings
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 7:11pm
When I was in Grade Five
at The Sandy Point Consolidated School
there was A Beautiful Dark Haired Girl
who told Us of Her Mother calling
a certain kind of cloud cover
“Mackerel Sky” for
the fillet-shaped fleshy flecks
of the fish I knew so well
from when My Mother used to roll Her Fillets
in flour and “froy them up roight crisp”
in butter served with lemon and parsley
The Hawk Kitchen 2:07pm
I put on My Green Apron —
“Pinny” as My Scottish Husband
calls It —
in It
I am The Uniform
of Domesticity
ready to cook
up
a chicken casserole
with the radio
up
LOUD
The Hawk Queen Bed 8:30am
Today is a day for the couch
I will not be going
on My Rowing Machine
I will not be taking roses
to My Mother-in-law
I will not be getting
the office mail
and I will not be making
spaghetti
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 12:55pm
Last Night My Eliza
cooked fish chowder
corn bread and a Waldorf Salad
— She makes Smoothies too —
out of pumpkin or beet juice
& I drink Them down
because of Their Colours
I eat Her Frozen Chocolate Mousse
for My Lunch just because
She says It’s not even
A Real Mousse
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 6:47pm
Tonight I see A Nebula
on My Darkened Dinner Plate
It lays within
The Buttery Juice
of My Fish —
The Breadcrumbs are
The Stars
& The Milky Sauce
is My Temporary
Universe
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 10:03am
I D-R-E-M-P-T
I was back
in Alphabet Land
— is It still called Alphabet Land?
on The Lower East Side
of Manhattan
over thirty years later
in a gentrified kitchen
tiny
as
My Own
Joanna Gilman Hyde 