The Hawk Outpost 9:48am
There Was A Title
On My Mother’s Shelves:
Munching On Existence*
I Bite My Apple
As I Look Out
Favouring No Resistance
*Robert A. Raines
The Hawk Outpost 10:15am
Sun — I guess It’s Sun —
filters through the fog
of a spring morning
I am in My Grey
C2 Rowing Outfit
Hunter is sleeping late
Eliza is on Her Way
to fun
& fame
The Hawk Deck 9:08am
I Am Drinking In
The Silver
Of This 22nd Day
Of This 22nd Year
Into The Awakening
I
Have
Come
To This Ever-glade
Of Peace
&
Prosperity
Where I Reside
With My Loving Husband
&
My Beautiful Singing Daughter
Whether I Stay
Or Not
I Will Carry With Me
The Ages
Of Time
&
Be A Representative
Of The Life
We’ve Lived
Before
The Hawk West Desk Window 7:57pm
Tonight I had to throw out
Our entire supper of fish
to the gulls and crows
— it was tainted —
and then in a fit
of generosity
I threw out Our bread
best by today
and three English muffins
dated March 18th
The Hawk Portico 2:48pm
I have Poetry Clothes
Invalid Clothes
Black Jesus Clothes
& Something for The Silver Christ
borrowed from The Invalid Ensemble:
My Thick Grey Robe
worn as My
“at home” attire
seen by My Husband, My Daughter
(She picked It out)
several carpenters
& maybe neighbours
when I take out
the trash
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:32pm
My First Incarnation
was as a sperm, strong
pointed
My Second was as a zygote
settled, growing
My Third was embryonic
at sea, close
My Fourth was as The Newborn Infant
face lifted to Mother
My Fifth was as The Astute Girl
Who wowed adults
and wanted to be a ballet dancer
My Sixth was as The Teenager
Who wanted to be a helicopter pilot
and do art on the side
Then I grew, focused, into A Young Woman
Who wanted to live in Nova Scotia
and married a man who would take Her there
to be near Her Mother
Her Mother Who Died
and left The Incarnation
of The Spirit
from Which The Flesh had
sprung
The Hawk West Desk Window 8:45pm
Once there was A Little Girl
Whose Mother died before
She was born — She was not scared —
She saw a Shower of Silver Blades
of Light
Four Days Later
It bestowed upon Her The Conviction
of The Existence of God
Twenty One Years Later
The Little Girl made A Gallery
of paintings of Her Mother
along with paintings The Little Girl
had painted Her Self —
She spent Many Hours hanging Her Gallery
down in The Basement
until One Night She & Her Daughter
— Her Daughter was Nineteen —
watched as a photograph of Her Mother’s Island
fell from Its hook
just when The Daughter was asking
“Was that when Your Mother Died?”
No more pictures were hung
except that one —
in a different place —
and The Daughter & The Little Girl
became the best of friends
and grew up together
The End
The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:02pm
I Have My Big Black Lion
At My Feet
And My Daughter’s Mane Of Gold
At My Fingertips
I Am Licking My Wounds
With A Salivating Tongue
And Garnering My Strength
For The Onslaught
Of The World
Joanna Gilman Hyde 