The Hawk Kitchen 8:08pm
What does The Sky look like
to Juvenile Joanna
sucking Her Right Thumb
but NOT twiddling Her Hair
(It was in braids)
This Sky out the East Kitchen Window
looks like oatmeal
–
From The West Desk Window
The Sky looks like striated years
representing decades
of living, & nearly dying
of having two babies
& losing the third
of having grown children
having no more mother, no father
a second loving husband
& a house from which
to watch The Clouds
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:11pm
I had to interrupt cooking supper
to write about laying out
four plastic Canadian fifties
for My Daughter’s allowance
allowing enough for a sports bra
to buy on a trip to Halifax
with Her Boyfriend
— $200.00 bucks flat out —
I was struck by the recollection
of a roll of American twenties
wadded into My Starving Palm
counted out in the bathroom
of a Japanese Piano Bar in New York:
— $200.00 bucks tootsie-rolled
into a promise to be taken
to Korea to do an art project
but delivered in a Waldorf elevator
with the push
to accompany The Korean Minister of Defence
into His Room
where all I could do
was to declare
in plain English:
“There has been some mistake.”
The Hawk Basement 3:30pm
I have two poems
swirling around in My Head:
The First represents The Shadow of a trinket
bauble, gem, charm, jewel
cast upon My Basement Wall
to the immediate right
of My Rowing Machine’s Arm
It is The Configuration
of a diamond ring
tipped to the right
& out from underneath It
falls, clatters
a rain of darker pieces, shapes
of raw concrete
spilling to the floor
meeting the extension of The Shadow
cast by the elongated arm
–
The Second is of My Mother & My Daughter:
While I was driving to pick up My Daughter
The Shadow of My Mother took over, briefly
& the car in front of Me
held My Daughter’s initials
& I, as Mother & Daughter
was The Bridge
I am The Bridge
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:43 pm
Should I feel guilty eating
a steak sandwich in front
of My Nearly Vegan Daughter
Who exploded into tears
when I told Her
She didn’t have to go to University
to learn Sociology?
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:38pm
I slept ’till noon
to make up for nightly sleep-deprivation
& got out of bed @ 2:00 this afternoon
to make up for a wasted day
of gathering together the garbage
for garbage day tomorrow
I got showered and dressed
to be presentable for Eliza’s boyfriend
& sat on the portico
to talk on the phone
to an artist friend near Chicago
when above My Front Yard
flew The Graceful Long-legged Heron
slowly traversing the air
above My House
& the heaviness of bed-lying
was long gone
The Hawk Family Room 7:30pm
“You can write poetry out of anything”
I glibly stated to a friend
who had taken Me out for a late birthday lunch —
Well Watch This — You Can’t–
take watching digital rain on Family Room window screens
& link it, somehow,
to My Hallmark Daughter
not giving Me a birthday card
then surprising Me with one
for Mother’s Day
The Hawk Living Room 1:30pm
Is It Too Trite
to write about My Old Bike
getting thrown out in the trash
along with My Cross Country Skis
Eliza doesn’t want —
My Ex Husband called this morning
promting the question
does anybody still want
My Teal 3-Speed I got for My Thirteenth Birthday?
Eliza said “no” & I said
“Are You putting it out by the road
for somebody to take?”
The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:33pm
What happened to That Long-haired Girl
Who painted That Giant Canvas
on The Roof of #5 World Trade Center?
I heard She turned 52
& writes in Her Journal
sitting on Her Tomato-coloured Couch
in Her astral-cork-floored living room
surrounded by beaches & dunes
waves & bird life
while Her Son starts a tree-planting job out West
& Her Daughter finishes correspondence courses
for Her Last Year
of High School
The Hawk Family Room 4:49pm
My Daughter Eliza handed Me
the tail end of a smoothie
strawberry froth
lining the bottom of a glass
I slurped the remnants of berry seeds
and minuscule bubbles
leaving a spherical star-scape
tilted toward the sun —
a pink piece
of The Universal Puzzle
Joanna Gilman Hyde 