The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:22pm
Mrs Blair sits in Her Hawk Living Room
furnished sedately but for
a staircase painted red —
She ponders the significance
of Humanity
and wonders if the music on Coffee House
is telling Her things
She should pay attention to
–
seltzer sits fizzing in Her LIFE Glass
on the glass coffee table
and She’s about to eat
some leftover pasta salad
before contemplating
Her next
3 seconds
The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:15pm
Dr Blair’s Wife dressed in grey slacks
dark grey sweater with gold zipper
rings upon Her Fingers
LL Bean upon Her Toes
drove Her nearly new Ford Fusion
to The Little Coastal Store
on Cape Island
to buy six packs of cat treats
for seven cats
two pork chops
two lesser cuts of red meat
to listen to Fatboy Slim’s
on the way
Home
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:50pm
I’m having a flash-back
back to when I was in
My Mother’s Womb — I knew then
I’d be a stocky blond
in red sneakers & a white gym suit
on The Roof of # 5 World Trade Center
& grow up to marry well
twice-over —
I knew then I would harbour
within the duration of My Existence
a pulling enticement
which when met
would give birth
to the ultimate contraction
between
young & old
&
I would live & die
in
one
moment
The Hawk Kitchen 2:59pm
an immobilized fly
knows no secrets
adhering, somehow, to the outside
of My Living Room Window
— I thought He was a spy —
when I wanted to write
“What Do I Most
Want To Say –“
and for Whom?
“For My Self”
— I saw He had died —
The Hawk Queen Bed 10:22pm
“Hey Everybody! This is God
yes, G-O-D
One of You, All of You
here, as always, to tell Us
We have a correction to make —
in case You were wondering
I am female —
52 years old in Body
infinite in Mind:
Caucasian North American
with a psychiatric history
not permitted to carry a firearm
but I can wear a bullet-proof vest
to guard My Castle-by-the-sea
where I live with My Husband
the very popular Dr Blair
& My Daughter, the very beautiful Eliza
& seven cats —
I’m not kidding around —
on March 31st, 1993, after four days of no sleep
induced by the death of My Mother
I had The Shower Of Silver Lights
crash down on My Head —
I thought I was The Second Coming Of Christ
but I didn’t want to give Christianity
that much credit
so I simplified My Title
My Essence
into Those Three Little Letters
& no, I don’t knowingly control the weather —
it controls Me
& yes, I believe in eternity
& The Sacredness Of Human Life
OR I WOULDN’T BE HERE!!”
“It’s Time To Hear My Rallying Cry
to sort out Our Miseries
Organize
Our Desires
Our Abilities
forget Our failings
Uphold Honesty
for where has Honesty
gone?
It’s Time To Apprehend
My Leadership —
I offer up My Self
for I am One Human
Who has seen The Light
& Knows It To Be
The Light Of This World
Our Precious Little World”
The Hawk Dining Room 5:20pm
Cami, My Husband’s Ginger Calico
— petite —
sits perfectly on the window sill
looking at a figure walking
up a neighbour’s drive
while I look beyond
& above
to The Windswept Swells
rolling into shore
The Hawk Kitchen 9:15pm
The Pink Residue
of My Husband’s Berries
& Ice Cream
lining His Dark Ceramic Bowl
poised to go into
The Emptied Dishwasher
is no longer a dirty dish
but A Modulated Receptacle
filled with One
Gigantic
Universe
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:50pm
I’m still That Teenager
reliable
brawny
baby-sitter
paper-girl
proper student
bound to be a helicopter pilot
artist-on-the-side
My Weakness was My Eyesight
but I kept My Sights set on Nova Scotia
where I have ended up
making grilled cheese sandwiches
served with a pickle
for My Second Husband
when He’s home
from The Office
I snagged
along with
The Man
January 17 The Hawk Queen Bed 10:55pm
Imagine going to sleep
with the windows open
more than a crack
in the middle of January
letting in the swoosh of waves
no wind
only the recollection
of words to a little doctor
in 1993:
I feel so vulnerable,
I need a doctor who loves me —
I need to be taken care of
in more ways than one
in 2014
I thrive
in The Hawk Queen Bed
beside a giant doctor
who loves Me
Joanna Gilman Hyde 