LIGHTHOUSE CALLING
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:25pm
How Many People
Hear The Twenty-two-second
Fog Horn Interval?
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The Hawk Queen Bed 9:25pm
How Many People
Hear The Twenty-two-second
Fog Horn Interval?
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:25pm
How Many People
Get To Sleep Under The Flash
Of A Lighthouse Near?
The Hawk Dining Room 5:20pm
Cami, My Husband’s Ginger Calico
— petite —
sits perfectly on the window sill
looking at a figure walking
up a neighbour’s drive
while I look beyond
& above
to The Windswept Swells
rolling into shore
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:25pm
I have re-visited
My Dark Doorway
to remember Those same wavy
strings of Cat Hair
— and dust —
now that The Snow Particles
are gone
What’s left
but Dark Matter
composing
the majority of material
making up The Scape
of Last Night’s Stars?
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:41pm
There’s a Star Scape
on The Window of My Black Front Door
back-lit by The Portico Light
— I know It’s snow, really —
but on close inspection
I see Little Threads
of maybe cat hair
individually straight
or wavy
String
Theory
January 19th, The Hawk East Kitchen Window
Have I written of The Wind
around here?
Now as I compose
one knee up to hold My Book —
The Wind is The Breath
of My Experience
of The Choppy Seas
The Vibration of The Trees
— to write It
is to feel It —
welling up in Me
as I stand on one leg
— My Left —
to write
& on Both
to read what I have breathed
The Tomato-coloured Couch 8:20pm
I opened My Kitchen Door
to the snow-laden deck
My Black Cat Astro sat
against the white
to think
— crossed the step —
I saw stars
on His Back
January 17 The Hawk Queen Bed 10:55pm
Imagine going to sleep
with the windows open
more than a crack
in the middle of January
letting in the swoosh of waves
no wind
only the recollection
of words to a little doctor
in 1993:
I feel so vulnerable,
I need a doctor who loves me —
I need to be taken care of
in more ways than one
in 2014
I thrive
in The Hawk Queen Bed
beside a giant doctor
who loves Me
The Hawk Corner Room 5:30pm
Years ago I was housed
in a big white living room
— a doctor’s quarters —
over-looking a busy highway
— too busy for Me —
as I lay on a long white couch
for the day, or weeks even
in My Transition from hospital stays
to this room, The Room Of My Arrival
here on The Hawk
with a big wide window
over-looking
the sustaining ocean
of Survival
The Hawk Deck 7:54pm
Out on My Deck
with the porch lamp lit
to shine on My Page
I hear roar upon roar
from The Ocean
I cannot see
but I know It
to love It
& It is near enough
for Me
Joanna Gilman Hyde 