The Hawk Deck 12:30pm
I stood in My Bedroom Entry Way
dust mop upright
fresh from going under The Bed
& a little bit around
(I do very light housekeeping)
I heard the song on Sirius
“This is Your Life —
This is Your Time –“
& yes, I do feel I am in My Time:
the only father-in-law I’ll ever have
has taken this 20th summer since My Mother died
to die very probably
of the same ailment
The Hawk Portico 2:00pm
The Wife sitting beside
the bed of Her Dying Husband
fusses with pillows, food uneaten
while “family” tries
to make sure She’s had enough
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:33pm
I was eating My Canned Soup tonight
when I realized
I can’t just pick up the phone
& call My Brother Howard —
He’s Not There — Or Here
He was killed, accidentally
on a jail-house floor
five-and-a-half years ago
prompting The 3-year Hyde Inquiry
resulting in Our Two Copies
of The 460-page Judge’s Decision titled:
Report of The Fatality Inquiry
Into The Death Of Howard Hyde
shelved in Hunter’s New Library
June 4, 2013 The Hawk West Desk Window 10:30pm
I Have Three Regrets:
ended up buried
& capped
in The Orangetown Dump
in Rockland County, New York
–
Five Copies
of My 364-page Manuscript Monument
to The Death of My Mother
ended up shredded
and put out by
the side of the road
here on The Hawk
–
The Third
was of My Body
and doesn’t fall within
This Category of Art
but the regret I feel
for this death
will never be acceptable
–
How Different Would My Life Have Been —
How Different From The Comparative Perfection
In Which It Is Lived NOW?
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:30pm
I married Him under apple boughs
on The Island of My Mother
and when She died
six years later
I would love another
–
I went to see Our Marital House
to see Eliza there
to deliver dishcloths
She was wanting
to see how She had cared
enough to put a sprig of apple
in a bottle neck deep and red
It glowed upon a kitchen sill
I have nothing left to dread
no more hurting husbands
no more dying pets
I am free now
in My Life
even to forget
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:15pm
I do not wonder at My Father’s Death —
how It was for Him
as I wonder at My Mother’s
My Father may have been asleep —
He died in the night
as far as I know
but My Mother was wide, wide
awake
& blazed Her Eyes open
except for one torturous blink
which opened back up
in Her Last Guttural Heave
The Tomato-coloured Couch 12:15pm
This Morning My Daughter reported waking
to the song of multitudinous bird-life
the dehumidifier tray was full
but She had no hot water
in The Atlantic House —
My First Marital Home
with Eliza’s Father
Who picked the colours
& built an addition
complete with screened-in porch
off Our New Bedroom
I sat out there in the shelter of the screens
in My Post-Mother’s-Death Depression
& wondered, along with everyone else,
why I was not happy
Joanna Gilman Hyde 