The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:50pm
I’m still That Teenager
reliable
brawny
baby-sitter
paper-girl
proper student
bound to be a helicopter pilot
artist-on-the-side
My Weakness was My Eyesight
but I kept My Sights set on Nova Scotia
where I have ended up
making grilled cheese sandwiches
served with a pickle
for My Second Husband
when He’s home
from The Office
I snagged
along with
The Man
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:41pm
There’s a Star Scape
on The Window of My Black Front Door
back-lit by The Portico Light
— I know It’s snow, really —
but on close inspection
I see Little Threads
of maybe cat hair
individually straight
or wavy
String
Theory
January 19th, The Hawk East Kitchen Window
Have I written of The Wind
around here?
Now as I compose
one knee up to hold My Book —
The Wind is The Breath
of My Experience
of The Choppy Seas
The Vibration of The Trees
— to write It
is to feel It —
welling up in Me
as I stand on one leg
— My Left —
to write
& on Both
to read what I have breathed
The Hawk West Desk Window 1:20pm
What orchestrates The Music
of The Universe?
What perpetuates The Orbital Spin
of Our Galactic Bodies?
Our Home Planets?
Time It cannot be
for Time is a Human Construct —
What then in Its Own Magic
raises Our Suns & Moons
guides Us through Our Days & Nights
allowing Us to Breathe?
The Tomato-coloured Couch 8:20pm
I opened My Kitchen Door
to the snow-laden deck
My Black Cat Astro sat
against the white
to think
— crossed the step —
I saw stars
on His Back
January 17 The Hawk Queen Bed 10:55pm
Imagine going to sleep
with the windows open
more than a crack
in the middle of January
letting in the swoosh of waves
no wind
only the recollection
of words to a little doctor
in 1993:
I feel so vulnerable,
I need a doctor who loves me —
I need to be taken care of
in more ways than one
in 2014
I thrive
in The Hawk Queen Bed
beside a giant doctor
who loves Me
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:11pm
I am dripping in Diamonds
oozing Gold from every pore
radiating Silver with My widest reach
My Words carry
My Weight
When I die
I will be entombed
with
My Endless Scrawl
at
My
Feet
The Tomato-coloured Couch 8:25pm
My Parents have never seen this room
or been anywhere near it —
They’re dead
& I’m glad
so I can enjoy The Rain
on The Skylights
& The Fog Horn
on The Cape
alone
& grown up
The Hawk Corner Room 5:30pm
Years ago I was housed
in a big white living room
— a doctor’s quarters —
over-looking a busy highway
— too busy for Me —
as I lay on a long white couch
for the day, or weeks even
in My Transition from hospital stays
to this room, The Room Of My Arrival
here on The Hawk
with a big wide window
over-looking
the sustaining ocean
of Survival
The Hawk Deck 11:11am
I stand before My Railing
in the calm
of this balmy winter day
The Chickadees call to Me
down in the scrub spruce
— A Crow alerts His Friends —
while My Kettle inside
boils
for A Second Cup
* First Cup of tea in My 18,000,000 Metre C2 Rowing Mug
Joanna Gilman Hyde 