The Hawk West Desk Window 7:39pm
I Sit In A Potion
Of Sea Salt
& Floating Insects
Waiting To Breathe
[My Life Is On Stilts]
The Hawk En Suit Bath 6:44pm
Remove The Crust
of Aeons’ Years —
Dispose of Your Treachery
into My Hallowed-out Hands —
within These Sinister Bubbles
I Reside to Exhume
The Blackest Blackness
of Faith Gone Awry
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 6:47pm
Tonight I see A Nebula
on My Darkened Dinner Plate
It lays within
The Buttery Juice
of My Fish —
The Breadcrumbs are
The Stars
& The Milky Sauce
is My Temporary
Universe
The Hawk Deck 1:16pm
The Hedgerow Rustles
Like The Waves —
Each Swoosh Swooosh
Sinks Into Me
& I Soak Up The Agent
Of My Life
The Hawk Deck 10:42am
I Made My Brain
To Think
I Made My Heart
To Feel
I Made My Feet
To Stand
I Made My Self
To Be
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 8:05am
This Morning’s Light
has blended into The Sky
The Houses on The Beach
are silhouetted against The Sea
The Hedge Row rustles
through My Outpost Window
Our Coffee has been steeped
The Hawk Deck 9:45am
I have A Plate
that’s square
& glaring red —
I use It for cheese & crackers
& banana bread
baked by a friend
& bestowed upon
new cottagers
who say
“See Ya!”
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 7:24am
The Sun This Morning
is a milky Gold
radiating out
through My Cobwebbed Window
The Sea is sky blue
& still
with a couple
of fishing boats
decking The Horizon
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 3:28pm
I take out
My Star-studded Kitchen Mat
& shake It in The Wind —
I sweep the mangled cobwebs
off My Sliding Glass Door —
I keep My Green-checked Apron on
over My Peachy Capris
& cross My Knees
in My Grandmother’s
Wrought-iron Kitchen Chair
preparing to call a friend
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 10:03am
I D-R-E-M-P-T
I was back
in Alphabet Land
— is It still called Alphabet Land?
on The Lower East Side
of Manhattan
over thirty years later
in a gentrified kitchen
tiny
as
My Own
Joanna Gilman Hyde 