The Hawk Kitchen 7:14pm
I took Dr Blair
His Dessert
of frozen berries thawed
in the microwave
& two scoops of French Vanilla Ice Cream
–
I took It to Him
under the low light
in The Hawk Family Room
where He sat by The Computer
looking elegant
–
I was serving
A Very Important Man
Who can’t seem to retire
even though His Back
is killing Him
The Hawk Basement 12:39pm
When My Mother first had Her Brain Tumour
diagnosed
She was tested as to functionality
by having to bake Chocolate Chip Cookies
unassisted
in a hospital kitchen
She was to follow a recipe
and I was with Her
not allowed to help
but I don’t remember
how, or if
They came out
The Hawk West Desk Window 8:38pm
Fall is finished for Me now
as soon as I saw
Its leaves along the grounds
of My Husband’s Office
–
No other flurry of fall
will strike Me the same
as This Summer’s Turning
Its brash array
scattered before The Edifice
of My Husband’s Career
Fifty Falls in the making
The Hawk Kitchen 4:47pm
The Sky around here
is so dramatic:
The Heavy Greys
of low-lying Clouds
move across The View
out My Sliding Glass Doors
with The Sun hitting Their Layers
— The Clouds, not The Doors —
while I sit on A Cat’s Ottoman
in My Pretty But Humble
Kitchen
watching
A Gull pass over
illuminated in Silver
The Hawk West Desk Window 2:45pm
I used to go to churches
and found them hollow places
Who there would hear of My Unstoppable
Shower Of Lights?
Who there could understand The Depths
of My Enclosed Depression?
–
I used to go to churches
looking for companionship
in the rawness of being broken open
like the delicate egg
I was trying to carry
–
I used to go to churches
when I wanted to die instead —
where no Minister could make Me
whole
and no friend could balance Me
–
I used to go to churches
and now I am Home
years beyond the fragility
in the compatibility
of My Marriage
where My House is
My Church
The Hawk Basement 11:25am
My Eyes for Our Visions
My Nose for Our Memories
My Mouth for Our Delight
My Brains for Our Dreaming
My Breasts for Our Sustenance
My Genitals for Our Desire
My Arms for Our Embracing
My Hands for Our Work
My Feet for Our Mobility
–
My Innards for Our Digestion
of Me
My Heart for Our Love
The Hawk Living Room 3:42pm
When I was A Child Of Sex
I swallowed The Semen
of anonymous men
unremembered — the men
not The Taste —
now in My Upstanding Years
I have sex with One Man
and besides
We don’t do That
Joanna Gilman Hyde 