The Hawk Kitchen 1:10pm
My Voice Is Signalling Me
To Write Of The Abomination
That Is Christmas:
How Can I Devour
The Little Children’s Innocence
When They Hear Of Santa
Coming Down A Vaginal Chimney
When They Hear The Living Lie
Of That Baby Jesus
Immaculately Conceived?
The Hawk West Desk Window 10:00pm
My Daughter was born
into a pool of water
and lifted up
like Venus Rising
with a beauty from another world
Eliza’s Out Now
at a drinking party
showing off reindeer sweaters:
She’s in one from Me
and Her Boyfriend’s in one
knitted by My Mother
for Her High School Sweetheart
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:09pm
I have The Embodiment Of Physical Thought
periodically pulsating within Me, in My Gut
just below My Left Rib Cage
It calls My Attention
to whatever activity I am engaged in
— I feel It, The Embodiment, often —
The Thought It Carries
is always happy
It, The Pulsation, is The Tangibility
of Happiness
–
I am looking at A Star
— probably a planet —
and as The Star sets
behind black clouds
I summon It —
— The Sensation —
Happiness
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:50pm
I am The Intellectual
sitting cross-legged on My Tomato-coloured Couch
drinking lemon-flavoured seltzer
from My Life Message Glass
–
I gaze from My Central Candle
to The Winter Window
& wonder when My “Good Morning, World!”
will enter every household
The Hawk Kitchen 9:27am
I See Life Flicker
On This Coldest Of Mornings:
Birds Among Berries
The Hawk Dining Room 2:00pm
Last night Eliza strung A Garland
out of popcorn & dried orange circles —
She hung It over Our Dining Room Window
with Its view of sky & water
— I stood before It —
The Garland dipped at nose level
I smelled The Smell of Delicacy
I stood back to view
The Subtle Transparency
of One Curling Slice
angled against the clearing clouds
The Hawk Dining Room 9:26pm
The Sky Is Leaded Silver
The Ocean Molten
After The First Snowfall
Of Any Import
My Car Is Facing East
To Melt The Remainder
Of What I’ve Brushed
Ready To Go Mail
My Son’s Birthday Card
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:30pm
What if You put into The Hands
of a 15th Century Native American*
Who had no way of knowing there would be
a 21st —
put in His Hands
an unopened, resealable package of frozen
Wild Jumble Berries?
*Who would have called Himself something different
The Hawk Queen Bed 12:40pm
I am The Black Crow Lady
right fist clutching at My Heart
No More Supper For My Family
No Care As To Where The Food Comes From
Or Who Makes It
–
No More Ears For The Radio
only rain & sleet can calm Me now
–
No More quiet “Good Night”
I am about to yell out
a song so wild
You will wish Your Tinnitus
could consume You
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:18am
I am in A Black Mood
but there is Power in My Madness
for I can wield The Hand
of Time
I can carry out My Wish
of no sickness within the scope
of My Reality
I can make Black Magic
into Child’s Play
and conduct The Truth
through My Fingers
Joanna Gilman Hyde 