The Hawk Beach 2:57pm
My Father never had Me
or when He did
He pimped Me off
or felt the need
to collect Me from sleepless
hotel rooms —
His Best Hope for Me
(My Brother He had given up on)
was to say,
“You are in ‘Recovery'”
Well — if He could see Me NOW
down by The Guzzle
in The South Wind of July
sitting in The Sand of My Achievement
He might come down from Heaven
or where ever He ended up
and shake My Hand
and send Me on My Way
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 West Desk Window 10:30pm
What is being heard
in the primordial surf
swooshing its way through
My Bedroom Window —
is it the surge I heard when My Father’s Sperm
rushed to make Me
when My Mother’s Egg
swelled and grew
to the whoosh of Her Womb
Hers and Mine?
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:11pm
“Our Family deals with Its Dead
in a peculiar way
My Dad is buried under The Pine Tree named Helmuth
— Not My Dad but His Ashes —
We go sometimes & pour beer on Him
because He liked beer
He was in a one-gallon ice cream container
in the trunk of Mom’s Chevy Nova —
before The Pine Tree
My Father, Helmuth Art Putz, was in a beer stein
about a foot and a half tall
That Pine Tree grows exponentially —
Here’s Your Mom, in a golden box —
I was prying It open with a screwdriver —
I wasn’t sure if the ashes were really My Mother —
after We threw My Mom & Granmom into the river
— not Them, Their ashes —
We asked for a sign
all the lilly pads were stagnating
We threw in irises
a blue heron flew overhead
& the lilly pads lifted up”
The Hawk Corner Room 4:52pm
My Parents have put Me here
really sittin’ pretty
in My Grey Bath Robe
— never dressed today —
— only showered —
padding around in white socks
to settle before My Immaculate View
of Ocean & Sky & occasional long white wave
–
Yes, if it weren’t for My Parents
would I be Here at all?
Tomorrow will be the first anniversary
of My Father’s Quiet Death
March 31st will be the twentieth
of My Mother’s skull-shattering
Expiration
–
and I am left
in the care of My Doctor/Husband
A Man My Mother never met
A Man My Father said would grow too old
–
Yes, I’m sittin’ pretty
in a Present to die for
My Future to live
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:15am
Both My Parents
have not died
for Me
Oh, They’re gone al-right
I just don’t feel Their Absence
It’s as if They never existed
except as Minds
in My Mind
before Me
The Hawk Kitchen 10:45am
When I was a not-so-little girl
I sucked My Thumb watching
Cowboys & Indians on My Father’s TV
until one night My Red-headed Step Sister
tied My Right Wrist to an iron bed post
with thick green yarn
–
Now I eat a daily banana
in My Back Yard
in My Bath Robe
& aim the peels
between the spaces
within the leafy — in summer —
hedge
The Hawk West Desk Window 2:00pm
For The Unborn
For Babies
For Toddlers
For Elementary School Students
For Teens
For Young Adults:
To be A Child means being loved unconditionally
Safely guided & nurtured by the source(s) of That Love
until independence —
But The Love Never Stops
Note: I was prompted to write this because I saw a diamond shape reflected before Me at the foot of my bed. I didn’t know what it was until I moved my right arm and saw that the shape was created by a reflection from the band of My Ladies Bulova Open Heart Watch.
Joanna Gilman Hyde 