The Hawk Deck NOON
The Grey-robed Figure
spirited out of bed at 11:00
takes Her Tea out to The Deck
assesses Her Timing
of This Morning’s Flirtation
with Depression
marked by Her Son’s Imminent Departure
for which She is cancelling
The Last Supper
Barrington Passage 6:15pm
I could sing a song
of cars & women —
all My Husband’s responsibility —
oil for The Lincoln Eliza refuses to drive
beer for My imbibere
& dinner reservations
The Hawk 4:50pm
I sing My Heart out
for every sailor Who comes along
for My Son Who’s later than expected
driving from Montreal
with an Australian
ready to take in Nova Scotia
–
I stumble over being A Mother
to My 25 year-old Son
skipping stones as if He were 9
& I forgot to buy more beer
in case He & His Buddy come back
before the obligatory good-bye
The Tomato-coloured Couch 8:25pm
In The Mid-nineties
I lay in bed for weeks
unbathed
wanting to die
not caring for my family
— why write it here —
here where I am happy & satisfied?
because I am in a lull
& I don’t have My Two-year-old Daughter
tearing covers off Me
insisting, “Mom — get up —
Yer Starvin'”
The Hawk West Desk Window 12:13pm
I saw An Angel Once
— while My Mother lay dying —
She Flew from Left to Right
amidst The Bows of A Lofty Pine
I told My Mother Where To Look
for Belly, Arms, Sleeves
She turned Her Head, My Mother did
so She Never Leaves
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:17pm
I can write whatever I want
a privilege not held in all countries
there, where Women are struggling
while I sit in My Sea-side Outpost
wanting to give, will, Them The Power
I have
to fight the wars Their Men
have made
to fight the hunger of Their
babes
what can I do
but write
My Freedom
& hope It spreads?
The Tomato-coloured Couch NOON
I have One Child still
at home
I fold Her Laundry
Make Her Bed
because
I Love Her
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:45pm
I’ve consulted an auctioneer
as to the possibility of selling off
My Family’s Letters, Memorabilia
Battles Between Offspring
& Every Valentine From 1947
to The Early 80’s
when My Grandparents Died —
but My Husband doesn’t think
I should
& My Daughter thinks
I wouldn’t get more than $20.00
The Hawk Kitchen 9:37am
I floated down The Hudson River
on a cloud of pink
baby pink
but I had eyes
& could see My Parents
incestuous playmates
together at The Waterfalls
of Snedens Landing
I impregnated My Mother
& She tried to gallop on a horse
to get rid of Me
but since I stayed
She wanted Me
& stuck to Me like horse glue
The first year of human-hood
was spent in Africa
for My Father to teach Africans
how to drive tractors
& for My Mother to give dinner parties to African Dignataries
where Dr Schweitzer held Me
on His Lap
& looked at My Toes
As soon as My Mother & I came home by freighter
Howard was born
& He became My New Shadow
The Hawk Deck 10:37am
Our Mother raised us single-handedly
while Our Father, back from Africa & Divorced
toiled fruitlessly on a dairy farm
Howard & I grew into
robust teenagers
— He a musician
— I an artist
laden down
by My Mother’s Failed Love Affair
with a famous Jazz Player
Fuck This Shit —
I’m not laden down by anything:
Mother’s Old Lost Love
Her Early Death By Malignant Brain Tumour
My Shower of Unintelligible Light
on March 31st, 1993
Brother’s Dying on a Jail-house Floor
or Years of Depression
with My Daughter’s Early Childhood Memories
of Her Mother Lying In Bed
or Hospitalized for Weeks On End
That Daughter has just finished
washing Her Boyfriend’s
Black Dodge Ram 1500
& It’s Drying
in Perfect
Sun
Joanna Gilman Hyde 