Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: insect life


The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 4:13pm

legions of mosquitoes

have swarmed into the broken webbing

of yesterday

catching themselves, in some cases

one upon the other

still alive

& how I wonder

can their scrambling efforts be

for each other?


The Hawk Kitchen 5:47pm

A Silver Fish on the corner

of My Husband’s writing desk

just went SPLAT

when I slapped My Left Palm

upon Him, He Who was just sitting there

like a spy —

I killed A Bug

to save My Life

and The Sanctity of My Home

“Oh Where Did He Go?”

The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 6:43pm

The Bug crawling up

My Outpost Window

can feel My Breath

My Heart-beat

My Urgency to Write

He is A Living Being

from The Roots of Divinity

like Me


The Hawk Kitchen 5:50pm

I looked & I looked

at the long-legged

insect My Mother called

The Mosquito Hawk

I looked & I looked

at His Tenuous Hold

on My Kitchen Cabinet

I looked at His Squiggly Feet

hooked on the tips

enabling His Grip

I looked & I looked

at His Star-patterned

Body, if You could call

It a body —

I looked & I looked

but nothing

could I see

that would tell Me A Reason

for Why





The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:22pm

In Memory Of All The Flies

Who Died When I Sprayed

Their Cranny

Over My Storm Door —

In Memory Of All Those

Times I Let You Out

Carefully Lowering The Glass Panel

On The Screen

To Ease You Down Without Harm —

I Have Had To Sweep Off

Your Carcasses

From My Step

& Hope I Never See Your Brothers


The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:25pm

The House Fly I cupped

in My Right Hand

and released beyond

My Front Door

knows My Scent

and carries It with Him

into Reality


The Hawk Portico 4:30pm

The Fly Stopped

Upon My Heart

And Told Me To Stand Still

To Take In All The Sun

Upon The Front Porch Sill

So I Stood To Gaze At Him

Until I Bent To Try

To Sit Upon My Chair Of Red

And Begged Him Not To Die

*Emily Dickinson


The Hawk Deck 11:10am

The Day On The Deck

Is So Still

I Can Hear The Echo

Of The Crow’s Call

Harsh, Yet Circular

Rising In A Crows’ Chorus

From The Scrub Spruce Nearby

Here Beside Me

Perhaps A Buzz Flies


The Hawk Kitchen 7:13pm

There’s something so satisfying

about letting A Fly out

a sliding glass door —

It’s as if all Your Problems

go along with It

& You can stand back

& look at The Sky

in Its sunset-hued pink

& think There Is No Better



The Hawk Portico 2:15pm

The Insect World

IS This World

How I love Their hovering —

They can spy on Me

all They want

as I spy on Them

with Their iridescence

Their cellophane wings

or if They crawl

Their multitudinous legs

They’re the only Aliens

We need