The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:02pm
I Have My Big Black Lion
At My Feet
And My Daughter’s Mane Of Gold
At My Fingertips
I Am Licking My Wounds
With A Salivating Tongue
And Garnering My Strength
For The Onslaught
Of The World
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:57pm
I live a life
of comparative luxury
with My Weight
on My Left Hip
& My Right Ankle relaxed
while I peel off
My Mother’s Silver Bangles
ancient ring of gold & amethyst
I’m not rich — yet —
but I expect to be
in This Lifetime
in the meantime
I eat frugally
& engage in a very limited
society of friends
The Hawk Kitchen 8:40am
This morning a golden sun
crossed over My makings for coffee
& coloured the ocean
a molten gold
–
For the second cup
a sun of white
shone through opaque clouds
to spot the ocean
liquid silver
The Hawk Kitchen 6:57pm
From My Kitchen Glass Doors
I can consume The Western Light
scattered across The Grass
illuminating The Scraggly Apple
Scrub Spruce beyond
out to The Line of Blue Atlantic
trimmed with A Streak
of Warm Grey Cloud
caught
by The Golden Glow
and set before Me
on My Plate
The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:15pm
Dr Blair’s Wife dressed in grey slacks
dark grey sweater with gold zipper
rings upon Her Fingers
LL Bean upon Her Toes
drove Her nearly new Ford Fusion
to The Little Coastal Store
on Cape Island
to buy six packs of cat treats
for seven cats
two pork chops
two lesser cuts of red meat
to listen to Fatboy Slim’s
on the way
Home
January 30th The Hawk TV Room 4:30pm
The Space between My Ex Husband’s favourite shed
& a distant house
lays out the edge of Sky meeting Cape
with grey fuzziness of flurries
from a low lying bank of cloud
soaking into gold
against the dark swath
of dimming shore line
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 Hawk West Desk Window 2:22pm
I have given up, for now
My Old Silver Towel
in-which I buried My Face
My Darkest Secrets
to smell instead
The Comfort Of Clean Gold —
My New Robe
Of Contentment
Joanna Gilman Hyde 