The Hawk Outpost 4:30pm
The Sky has a hue
of aqua green
against the three or so
inches of white
The Colour is delicate
transitional
a gull flies through It
out of view
The Hawk Dining Room 9:26am
The Ocean is a pale grey
beyond a fore drop of snow white
The Sun is My Luminous Disc
playing against the water
in streaks of golden silver
& clouds of darkened flakes
The Hawk Dining Room 8:27am
The Sky in The East
is fringed low with Gold
The Sun is somewhere
behind The Grey
The Ocean is Black
marred by waves
My Day is gathered
with Me She’ll stay
The Hawk Corner Room 1:10pm
My Bed is laid
with The Quilt of Purple Ripples
under an array
of framed memorabilia
in Eliza’s Room
while She is away
messing about in boats
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:33pm
I think back
to That Night of Black Magic
when I was dressed in beaded
dark grey lace
enthroned by the mink
of a dead mother-in-law
— silver heels decked
My Feet
rhinestones spiralled around My Neck
The Place was packed
when I tottered in
to drink only water
next I looked
The Place was cleared
but for My Party Of Six
My Truest Friends
out for fried fish & burgers
& cranberry puddng
until unforecasted snow
compelled Us to go
leaving no shoe
behind
The Hawk En-suit Bath 1:11pm
I Am Venus Rising
Out Of Her Bath
Of Bubble
Having To Towel Off
(With Her Grey Towel Of Course)
Any Trace
Of Her
Submergence
The Hawk Kitchen 9:30am
Yesterday I put on a play
for My Husband —
I dressed in Eliza’s Black Satin Robe
& My World Trade Center Earrings
took My Wedding Rings Off
& declared to WHB
that He houses
The Most Dangerous Woman In The World —
then the gold and silver pin holding My Robe
exploded off Me
causing Me to change
into My Silver Grey
with Earrings of Dangling Gold
from Africa
& rhinestone bracelet:
a bauble of The Earth
The Hawk Outpost 4:49pm
There’s That Beautiful Soft Light
Along The Horizon
Again
Shielding Me From Harm
While My Husband Takes A Nap
& The Cats Finish Their Supper
The Hawk Queen Bed 10:15pm
Together We watched a purple sky
as evening fell
upon Our Christmas Dinner —
on Our way back
from Barrington
to pick up an ice pack
for Her trip south
We watched, together
the cradle of The Moon
falling into
a blackened sea
Joanna Gilman Hyde 