The Hawk Deck 10:35am
I bit into My Morning Apple
and bit into The Fall
Eliza’s off to school next week
and I will be alone with Hunter
The Cats
and breezy lines of wash
The Hawk West Desk Window 10:22pm
Every night @ 9:30 I swallow a concoction
of medical remedies for sleep
— not to build a cocoon of ages —
but to bury Me underwater
like The Dragonfly Nymph
Who emerges after several years
into clear summer air
to fly the frenzied mating dance
to be admired
should She land against
the sleeve or head
of The Silver Haired Doctor
bent on examination
The Hawk Portico 5:15pm
One year out of art school
I rose to stellar fame
— or tried to —
when I painted the roof
of The World Trade Center
& fended off The Director’s
romantic advances
He’s dead now
so I’m free to write
that I did NOT sleep My Way
to the top
that MY TOP has not been reached
yet
But It’s Going To Be
In My Lifetime
even if I have to die first
The Hawk Portico 4:55pm
While putting on My Shorts
to sit out on My Hawk Portico
I had the Realization
that I write about Place
more-so than People —
that My Poetry describes the environment
I live in
& that if I lived anywhere else
how different would it be?
The Hawk Living Room 1:40pm
I made My Way through
New York City
going to bed with men
just because they took Me
out to dinner
–
I married for Nova Scotia
& for My Mother
then I lost Her
somewhere on The High Seas
& gained an insight
into something no one else could
sea
except — there always has to be
An Except —
One Little Man
Who unwittingly took My Heart
while My Second Husband
has My Twat
The Hawk Living Room 6:50pm
My Shredded Manuscript has been found —
not the shreds, which were dumped
at the side of the road
in three clear garbage bags
two years ago —
but a surviving copy
in Vermont
in an old farm house
belonging to My Stepmother
Who shared in My Happiness today
when I called Her
& She asked, ” Have You heard
The Good News?”
My suicidal activity
has been undone
& I don’t have to DO anything
with The Resurrection
like re-write It
into an epic poem
I can merely bask
in Its discovery
& know that It’s safe
driven by Eliza & Her Boyfriend
home by Saturday
The Tomato-coloured Couch 6:30pm
If My Old Down-trodden Psychiatrist
could see Me now
cooking chicken & rice
writing 7 or 8 poems a day
loving My Husband
& My Cats
shopping & going to the hairdresser
What Would He Think?
Was/Is She Mad?
How has She Come This Far
& better yet —
Where Is She Going?
The Hawk Portico 5:46pm
I hear The Chickadee
& an outboard motor
& think of My Mother
My Mother traversing the waves
to get out to Mc Nutt Island
A Place I swore never
to forget
yet It has caused Me pain
& grief when She died
but I own Her house no longer
merely some land
which My Children
are destined
to inherit
The Hawk Portico 4:50pm
I’ve learned to latch onto Disappointments
with all the tenacity of a wild-haired dog
— then I beat Them up
with all The Greatness of My Life
& think of these let-downs as transient
substituted by going to The Hairdresser
now
instead of The Therapist
Joanna Gilman Hyde 