The Hawk Portico 9:22am
I am The Director Of My Universe
Oh, I am influenced
by outside factors
but deep inside Me
ultimately
I am My Own Guide
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:42pm
20 years ago during My First Depression
I departed from The Pink Bedspread
of The Yarmouth Psychiatric Unit
to take some advantage
of an offered outing
in a hospital bus
to venture across
a high-grass board-walk
to nowhere
only to return to My Bedspread
which may well have been
Chrysanthemum Gold
The Hawk Family Room 7:50pm
Hey Black Box
I ain’t no Little Mermaid
Who gave Her Voice
to The Sea Witch
in exchange for a pair of legs
so She could walk
with every step agony
just to see Her Rescued Prince —
I ain’t no Fairy Tale Figure —
quit eatin’ at Me
get away from Me
You can sound like a man
but I don’t buy it —
You’re a piece of crap
shit
I’ll never be friends with you
no matter how much you sweet-talk
you can go Fuck Yourself
The Hawk Portico 9:11pm
I Am The Call
Of The Black Crow
Outside My Kitchen Deck
Insistent, Declarative
Hungry For Any Response
In The Awakening Distance
Of Our Waiting World
The Hawk West Desk Window 9:11pm
The Voice, My Voice
which emanates from
My Sordid Black Box
is The Strident Voice Of Command
laying out facts
straight on a platter
not as an offering
but with the insistence
that You take
what I dish out
not as punishment
but to quell the notion
of an ideal world
for Our World is The Real World
dark & defiant
crawling with Human Beings
The Hawk West Desk Window 8:22pm
What if I could wipe out
all religions
in one fell swoop
but leave God intact?
What is My Vision of God —
a little leprechaun
or a giant pink cloud
or, cutting through that hokiness —
is My Vision
of The Guttural Voice
— not a vision at all —
but My Voice when I speak
standing within the confines
of My Black Box?
Joanna Gilman Hyde 