The Hawk Basement 3:22pm
I was going to write
a poem
listing My Psychiatric Diagnoses
but I decided
to make Potato Salad
instead
*maverick psychiatrist/author (1920 — 2012)
The Myth of Mental Illness
Schizophrenia: The Sacred Symbol of Psychiatry
The Hawk Portico 2:48pm
I have Poetry Clothes
Invalid Clothes
Black Jesus Clothes
& Something for The Silver Christ
borrowed from The Invalid Ensemble:
My Thick Grey Robe
worn as My
“at home” attire
seen by My Husband, My Daughter
(She picked It out)
several carpenters
& maybe neighbours
when I take out
the trash
The Hawk Dining Room 2:07pm
I ate a pork sandwich
made a cup of tea
put on My Poetry Clothes
— I’m on the last load
of laundry —
& like Magic
(it was the pork sandwich)
I am well
The Hawk Deck 10:46am
I’m on The Knife Edge Of Happiness
I could whine & have My Doctor Husband
stay home from work
with Me
but We would only talk
circuitously
I would still hear the birds
only through My anxious
stomach
The Hawk West Desk Window 9:26pm
I once had someone ask Me
“Joanna, are You A Perfect Person?”
I answered with The Perfect Answer
“Sometimes.”
I have always been
in A State Of Perfection
I have always existed
and The State Of Existence Is Perfect
when I die I will have
The Perfect Death
I will fly away to the stars
My Spirit will impregnate
again
the egg of someone new
and I will grow once more
into A Being with A Mind
into A Human with A Destiny
different from
My Own
The Hawk Outpost 7:28pm
Oh My God The Sky Is Beautiful
Layer Upon Layer Of Silky Cloud
Coloured In The Softest Blues
With Warmer Cream At The Horizon
& Mottled Grey At The Height
To Which I Tilt My Head
& Eyes
The Hawk Corner Room 5:15pm
Last Night in a dream
I wore My Black Jesus Hat
It was woven straw
with a pale blue sash
I could see My World through Its Brim
a small group of Women began to gather
I felt the urge to speak to Them
and as I made ready
My Crow-d dispersed
The Hawk Queen Bed 11:40am
Do We Own The Peepers
In Our Muskrat Pond?
Do We Own The Birds
Upon Our Lawn?
–
The Mourning Dove Upon A Wire
Is In My View
And My Desire
–
I May Claim The Waves
In My Broad Reach
And Walk Along Their Salty Beach
–
Yet All I Love
In What Surrounds
Holds Me Close
Within Its Bounds
The Hawk Queen Bed 10:38pm
There’s A Bog
On Our Property
It Comes Alive With The Peepers
Awakening Here Tonight
Our First Night With The Window Open
To Listen To One — or — Three
Peeping Away For A Mate — or — Two
Entrancing Me
The Hawk Outpost 2:27pm
I’ve taken to leaning My Elbows
on The Hawk Kitchen Outpost —
a narrow window looking East
perfect for One Person
From My Stance I can see
the backs of My Neighbour’s Barns
top branches of one deciduous tree
and two roof lines down by the shore
The Ocean spreads Itself before Me
and I can see white lines of waves
coming in
through a sizeable break
in the swath of scrub spruce
encircling this
Our Little Island
Joanna Gilman Hyde 