I don’t bake
I write poems
Do The People
in Martin’s No Frills Parking Lot
need to be reached?
–
No, They are happy
in Their Own Disgruntled Lives
I just saw
a Mother & Daughter
eating Cheese Doodles
on The Way
to Their Car
The Hawk Deck 11:35am
If I hear The Waves
Really Hear
They say, “It’s OK
It’s OK”
–
If I see The Ocean
Really See
It shows Me
Its Serenity
–
If I feel The Day
Really Feel
It tells Me
You Are Here
Really Here
& You Love It
On McNutt Island
I used to sit in our 3-holer privy
with My Mother
who often rested Her right elbow
on Her thigh
right hand under chin
Left Hand draped across
dangling Her Silver Nugget Ring
–
I assumed this same position today
with My Left Hand draped
across My Thighs
& I Was My Mother
I looked down to see My Mother’s Ring
& there were My Diamonds —
jolting Me
with crystallizing light
seared into My Brain
OK’d by My Mother
The West Desk Window 11:24am
I am luxuriating in The Full Viewing
of My Beautiful Bird of Paradise
I watch Him from My Vehicle
at the side of Hawk Point Road
My Neck craned to My Left
I gaze across Tidal Flats
at The Break in The Dunes
where Storm Waves wash in
small fry
for My Beautiful Long-legged, Long-necked Friend
Who wades so prominently
through One Grand Pool
to fish at Four Glorious Intervals
before I allow My Self
to finish driving home
to fix Lunch
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”
The Hawk Deck 11:35pm
Oh Fly, why do You light
on My Knee?
Why do You stay awhile —
what makes You go?
Do You know something
I don’t?
–
Oh Fly, why do You light
on My Sleeve
looking at Me
while You wash Your Arms?
Are You as curious
as I am?
What makes You leave?
Are You coming back?
The Hawk Deck 9:42am
I HAVE A CRY
discouraging Me from My Walk
along the Barrington Bay Trail
preventing Me from shopping
at Sobey’s
–
I HAVE A CRY
like The Crow’s Cry
efficient, timely
but MY CRY IS CAWT
The Hawk West Desk Window 12:22pm
So This Is Nova Scotia
I’ve woken up in The Land of Dreams
to find I no longer belong
I have arrived at My Life’s Destination
& The Jays are telling Me
“Go Back, Go Back”
“What do You want to be
when You grow up?”
“I want to be a ballet dancer
but I’ll probably be an artist”
I hold on tight to My Black Cat Astro
replacement for a beloved Tom
Who was the first creature
I ever grieved over
before My Mother Died
& I fell in love
with The Scripted Little Man
Who’s stayed with Me
in My Mind & Heart
for nearly 20 years
I must go back
to the capable kid I was
with paper route
and baby-sitting jobs
who knew She would be An Artist
Who was An Artist
painting giant canvases
& wowing art teachers
at Cooper Union
— if She could make it there
She could make it anywhere —
but She can’t go back
only forward
without the encumbrances
of Her Mother’s Estate
& The Doctor She Lives With
in a marriage based on His Reality
Joanna Gilman Hyde 