The Hawk West Desk Window 7:48pm
There Shimmers A Silver Sky
to thank Me for My smallest
of tasks — a sewing job
on My Husband’s pants
and the careful look
Eye took — lingeringly
at My Grandmother’s
needle book
with a yellow cover
& eight red wool pages
enclosed with a hand made clasp
to go inside
My Strawberry Painted
Sewing Box
I placed My Bejewelled Left Arm
upon the cushion of My Sofa
The Left Hand of Which
became My Grandmother’s–
The Hand My Mother Saw
in a tree
The Night My Grandmother Died
It was a lawn I mowed
in a peach bikini
when I was sixteen
now covered over with blackberry brambles
thigh high
up to the open front door
no longer entered
–
It was My Grandparents’ summer house
yellow & white
with yellow & orange roses climbing
with nasturtiums on the entry deck
vegetable garden by the sea
where parsley grew
& where My Grandmother sent Me
to pick a few sprigs for Our Supper
on The Sun Porch
Joanna Gilman Hyde 