The Hawk Kitchen 1:22pm
When I reach for My Life Glass
I am reaching for My Past
My Future
I am reaching for My Laundry Basket
My Plate of Lunch for My Husband
I am reaching for The Love
of My Life
& I am reaching
for The Fluidity
of My Grace
The Hawk Window Seat 8:54am
The Snow serves one purpose —
to delineate the length
of The Cape
along the southwest
view from Our Bedroom
Window
It makes a delicate white line
below the dunes —
a highlight of sand
I might fail to notice
in Summer
The Tomato-coloured Couch 9:05pm
My Husband is
a very brave man
He answers to The Call
of sirens
vessels of the night
loading & unloading
the dead & ailing
He rests by the sides
of widows
& talks with His Blue Eyes
The Tomato-coloured Couch 8:15pm
I drive My Little Ford Fusion
fuelled by McDonald’s decaf
& a steady flow of Joy Division
over sea-side roads
taking Me on office errands
wherein I am one of the fanciers
of Our Provincial Health Care
Loonie*
*Canadian equivalent of the dollar
The Hawk West Desk Window 3:00pm
I have two worn out Birks Boxes
for My Single Silver Pen
re-established in Its Domain
each time I finish
writing — oh like a body
underneath a coffin lid —
lay Me down in a tomb
marked for eternity
by Ever Stylish Artists
with Their Magic Implements
recoiling
from Their Brevity
The Hawk Kitchen 9:43am
When I reach The Age of 122
and People ask Me What’s
My Secret?
I will tell Them:
“I have lived on a diet
high in fat, sugar and salt —
fat for My Blood
sugar for My Disposition
salt for My Tears —
I have had The Love
of A Big Black Cat
named Astropythicus
to soothe My Palpitating Heart
and I have lived
in the Land of My Dreams
where every day
I took to My Magic Pen
and wrote My Life
in Stars”
The Hawk Corner Room, Home of My Globe 8:11pm
I have landed on Alert
True North
to make My Proclamation
that santa claus is Poison —
santa & his elves & raindeer
& mrs clause too
need to be wiped off
The Face of This Planet —
This Planet which is My Face
I will dedicate My Life
to The Restoration
of Children’s Minds
The Hawk Outpost 7:15pm
The early evening light
light of spring
still in mid-winter temperatures
lays itself across
the yard, weeding its way
through The Scraggly Apple
turning pinkish gold upon
My Favourite Spruce
lighting up the rooftop gables
down by the Eastward shore
Joanna Gilman Hyde 