The Hawk Kitchen 12:50pm
I was That Nice Young Woman
balancing babies on My Left Hip
splitting firewood for The Atlantic Stove
hair shoulder length
smiling for photographs
coping with My Mother’s Illness
but not Her Death
Illuminated by The Shower of Lights
I descended into Depression
spanning eight years
pulled out by The Arms
of My Doctor
Who became My Second Husband
–
In This 22nd Year My Hair is short
children grown
I wear black
and block My Heart
in A Vault of Silver
In a Barrington Passage car park
I listen to 90’s on 9
“That’s Me in The Corner
That’s Me in The Spot Light
Losing My Religion”
— I listen to 90’s on 9
to reclaim the decade
stolen by My Mother’s Brain Tumour —
is this another Dead Mother poem
or My Reclamation
of What I’m OWED?
Making up for months & months
of psychiatric hospitalizations
of years of being so depressed
I couldn’t take care of My Children
of writing a 364 page Manuscript
— The Encapsulation —
only to gleefully shred It
— every copy I possessed —
on a sunny June afternoon
fifteen years later?
The Hawk West Desk Window 10:52am
My Depression today is
a Big Red Truck Cab
inadequately hooked up
to an old mobile home
while I sit at My West Desk Window
waiting for A Parade
–
inside The Big Red Truck Cab
The Driver & His Partner sit
waiting for an excavator
to handle the job
of pulling the mobile home out
a long straight drive
around a right-angle corner
onto the road
this operation takes about forty minutes
–
next The Big Red Truck Cab drives out
& parks up ahead on the road
behind a leading white pick-up with warning lights
I make some Toast & Marmalade
& watch from My West Desk Window
–
The Big Red Truck Cab is re-hooked
to the old mobile home
& fills the road with Its catch
another truck brings up the rear
with a big red & white WIDE LOAD sign
–
I go downstairs to put on the kettle
I can watch through My House Side Door
The Parade of heavy equipment
is set
The Kettle boils
I pour My Tea
I go to look at My Line Up
It’s gone!
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
He steamed out 24 hours
not planning on coming back
when He cut the engine
& sat astern
testing the water:
“It was real to Me
I witnessed It
& same time I’m puzzled by It
I don’t see any reason
I shouldn’t tell It —
Some People may see a UFO
maybe They did
I thought about painting It
It’s so well embedded in My Mind
They don’t have to look like a seagull —
They weren’t
They weren’t a sea hag
They were sort of angelic like
down on the outside —
similar to a glow
20 feet away
2 on top 1 on the bottom
sea hags don’t hover
They were trying to send Me a Message
delicate hair, like angel hair
Something I can’t explain
but It happened”
I’m lying on My Tomato-coloured Couch
— did I say It’s very comfortable?
Looking up at My Crow Painting
— I need My Glasses —
The Living Room Window is Open
to The Southerly Waves
at My Head
with Eliza’s Horse Blanket
over The Rest
July 22nd 2012 THE HAWK DECK 10:46am
–
I slurped the last
of a juice pack
& thought of how I didn’t eat
years ago when I weighed
111 lbs
& what did I drink?
–
July 23rd 2012 THE HAWK BEDROOM 9:04am
–
Today I Rise
to The Edge of Depression
sitting in The Bed
of My Pea Soup Hospital Room
with The Window Wide Open
to let in Bird Calls
of Wellness
dat De-Press-ion ain’t
gonna git Me agin
no matta how It come
lurkin’ around
–
It ain’t gonna stop Me
from doin’ de dishes
–
eatin’ Ma suppa
–
It ain’t gonna stop Me
from drivin’ wid Ma Baby Girl
out to La Creamy
Treat
in de settin’ sun
I remember lying in That February Sun
or was it March or April?
inadequate
with a step-sister who couldn’t help Me
no one could
I had abandoned My Self
to My Suffering
alleviated only by
bed-lying
couch-lying
& towel-lying on driveway stones
in the tepid sun
of 1997
Joanna Gilman Hyde 