The Hawk West Desk Window 10:00am
The Seed of Black Jesus
is nestled inside
the satin folds of My White Womb
I am in Partnership
We give no credence
to satan
The Hawk Kitchen 2:52pm
Black Jesus was busy today
in Her Black Jesus Kitchen
She cooked peppers that were going bad
–for spaghetti sauce–
macaroni for Eliza & Tyler
when They get back from Their first night
on The Island
Shepherd’s Pie with corned beef
from The Hawk Basement
She listened to Her Black Jesus Radio
& drank Her Black Jesus Tea
–She was busy all right–
She even did two loads of laundry
still hanging
on Her Black Jesus
Line
How pleasant that was
having Eliza bring out Her Laundry Basket
to fold Her Clothes beside Me
as We both sat on The Stoop
listless in The Afternoon Light
— no wind —
mild enough for bare feet or socks
while We imagined what kind
of House Wife She would be:
“Better than You,” She said
I said, “So rich You would have a maid”
“So rich I could micro-lend
to poor women in Saudi Arabia”
The Hawk Living Room 6:40pm
I wrapped The Corpse
of My Mother
in Saran Wrap
so I could see Her better
& carried Her inside the house
My House
so I could hear Her better
I refrained from putting Her
inside the freezer
& carried Her instead
to the downstairs bathroom
to partake in the ceremony
befallen all The Others
Note: This was written on the last page of My Keith Haring Journal
The Hawk Portico 1:15pm
On A Day Like Lovely Today
Eighteen Years Ago
I Laboured All Day
With My Daughter
Who Was Hardly A Labour
Born Into An Inflatable Pool
@ 9:04 That Night:
She Came Out PERFECT
My Daughter stood above Me
on The Hawk Balcony
wearing an off-white sweater
She slipped on a pearl earring
Her Face was “Done”
She looked like the apparition
of An Angel
— I wished I could just send
My Mother’s Island Possession
over to Her —
but She’s going to Her Boyfriend’s hockey game
& turning 18 tomorrow
& now She’s changed
into a grey sweatshirt
The Hawk Red Deck Chair 12:15pm
Oh My God! — That’s My Mother
Telling Me To Write This Poem
— It’s The Chickadees
flitting around The Scraggly Apple
telling Me to write down
what I did one Christmas
in Cooper Union —
I asked My Unmarried Economics Teacher
to be a Christmas Present
for My Mother
& He said Yes!
so I wrote Mom a note
for Christmas Morning
that a Man was coming to visit
He came to Christmas Dinner
in Valley Cottage
— My Grandfather was there too —
now Pappy, The Teacher, My Mother, My Brother
are all dead
but The Chickadee-dee-dees
are alive
& chirping
Joanna Gilman Hyde 