The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:22pm
On My Way To The Mail Box
I Passed A Roadside Spread Of Asters
Pale Lavender Star-shapes Against The Golden Grass
And Auburn Leaves Of Fern — There Was No Mail
But As You Can Guess
That Hardly Matters
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 Tomato-coloured Couch 5:33pm
I sit in That Golden Light
until It, or I,
goes behind A Bank Of Cloud
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:22pm
Once I wore black
for My Favourite Psychiatrist
Jesus Black — black velour sling pants
black push-up bra
briefly hidden by a golden tee
which said “Trust In The Lloyd”
My FP asked if I had made the slogan
I told Him, “No, it came from a movie”
and tore off The Tee
as I sat on an unforgiving mattress
on the floor
of The TQ Room — not a room — an unforgiving space
euphemistically named The Therapeutic Quiet Room
— My hair was longer then
blonder
I might have looked wild —
My Tall Psychiatrist
stood above Me
and looked at the ceiling
and said what I presume
was a prayer
I don’t even know
why He was in there
and I certainly do not know why I was
Note: related passage in The Script
The Hawk Deck 11:22am
That same spot of Ocean
where I saw The Sun come up
this morning
is vacant now
beyond the scrub spruce —
I cling to It
as one might a heavenly body
in twilight
& perhaps even
say a wish
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:45pm
I have delivered A Prayer
— The First I’ve Ever Written —
through The Sacred Postal Service
but I don’t know how
My Children’s Grandfather
will receive It
The Hawk Window Seat 8:30am
I watched for The sun
along the glowing horizon
& when It sparked, It bounced
& shouted out, “Good Morning!”
The Hawk West Desk Window 7:12pm
I painted once
a watercolour sunset
& wrote on the back
“This could be a cover
for The New Yorker”
I gave it to My First Husband
Who put it in His Parents’ attic
Yet tonight I saw My Painting
in real life
out My West Desk Window
in the sky beyond The Cape
edged below by the silhouetted dunes
bathed above by the astonishing pink
I had tried to capture
The Hawk Deck 10:40am
22nd Anniversary of My Mother’s Brain Tumour Diagnosis
I live in a place
where women wear Their Robes
until noon
where cats meander across
other people’s lawns
where The Fall Sun
allows You a final stipend
of sitting on The Deck
where You reflect on a past
You know now
is gone
The Hawk Dining Room 3:53pm
I rest My Chin
in The Child’s Posture
between My Fists
I contemplate The Greyness
of My Ocean
It’s All Mine
nobody
can steal It
away
I
will
hold
It
to
Me
within My Veins
within My Flesh
within My Insides
I Am The Salt
I Am The Water
I Am Here
in The Child’s Stance
Joanna Gilman Hyde 