The Hawk West Desk Window 9:34pm
Everyone was once A Molten Star
far away from Everything, but part
of A Churning Galaxy with Its Own Identity
A Uniqueness cast into Our Humanness
and when We Die, We Return
to The Eternal Cycle
and burn
The Hawk West Desk Window 3:13pm
Today I saw A Silver Gull
bending & arcing
before the glancing clouds
outside My Kitchen Window
To It I attached no significance
other than It was A Thing
Of Beauty
The Hawk West Desk Window 10:22am
What was I pounding for
steadily on that giant door
of The Therapeutic Quiet Room
locked in & beating My Heart Out
on a steel drum?
It was for The Primitive Woman
I was That Strongest Black Woman
wailing with My Fist
until My Watch Strap popped
& They came to The Smash Resistant Window
& thought I had stopped
The Hawk West Desk Window 3:30pm
The Flock of Starlings careening
around Our House like schools of fish
during Eliza’s Arrival
settled on The Wires as She left
adding dimension to A Line
and a song to The Wind
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:47pm
What Is The Intrinsic Value
Of One Human Life
— Where — On This Planet —
Or Anywhere Else?
Is There Somewhere We Could Go
Where We Each Would Be Worth
All The Silver, All The Gold
On Some Other Planet — What If
It Didn’t Have Any — What If
It Had A Plethora Of Diamonds?
In My Book, We Better Stick
With What We Know
& I Know Each Of Us
Cannot Be Measured
Any Where
By Any Thing
The Hawk Corner Room 4:57pm
The Softest Colour In The Whole Wide World
Is The Subtle Pink Of The East
Settling Over The Light Haze Of Blue
At The Horizon — The Pink
Rests Above It
In An Extended Layer
Of Sunset Powder
Sent Over From The West
The Tomato-coloured Couch 8:15pm
Hunter has a bunch of red roses
& He’s at work tonight
He’ll see them when He gets home
He’ll see them in a lime-green glass juice pitcher
— for want of a sizeable vase —
here they are in the living room
they’re beautiful — full & unmarked
with His Birthday Card from This Morning
standing open
The Hawk Living Room 7:30pm
Eliza’s Roses this week
will not end up the dried out buds
of every previous batch
This Week They have unfurled —
One even revealing Its Perfect Whirl
within The Orange Nautilus
of My Mind
Joanna Gilman Hyde 