Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: Peter Lynn Haeghaert


The Hawk Deck 10:17am

I stood on an August Deck

of The Yarmouth Ferry to Maine

with The Man I was to marry

— this was thirty years ago —

I told Him I was very happy

— He said He was too —

We had Our Nova Scotia Life

spread out before Us:

restoring an enchanting house

having Our First Baby

Our Son Peak

— The Core of My Family Unit —

to have and to hold for five years

until My Mother got sick and died

and I was no longer the same.

This August 31st

I stood again with Them

at The House No Longer Lived In

and They didn’t want Me to leave.

Peak’s Father gave Me

an unsolicited hug

and My Grown Son

looked at Me


wondering if I would stay.



The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 4:30pm

I have come through

an oven of madness

I have been broiled

and poked

for The Life of My Daughter

for My Son since He was five

when I made a pact

with My Self

that I would never feel

the pain of the loss

of My Mother

and found instead

the love that sustained Me

through My Temperature Gage

of Molten Silver

and Highest Reverie

I have spoken

of My Vile Nature

black with burnt offerings

of Salvation

for The Masses

yet to come

I am out

on the table

for dinner with My Starving Family

My Ex Husband I loved

in the sun

of Our First House,

a tiny one

I am out,


to be eaten now

with Mint Jelly

from the shady side

of My Mother’s Well



The Hawk Deck 11:38am

I have one surviving

heavy ceramic casserole & lid


which I use all the time

given to Peter & Me

by a pair of artists

— My Mother’s Friends —

it would have been Our 29th


& one small set of wind chimes

given to Hunter & Me

by a fisherman I grew up with

& His Kindly Sweet Wife

— The Chimes moved this morning

on this 1st Day of June

as I had My Hawk Kitchen Outpost Window



The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 3:20pm

How dare anyone

infiltrate My Sanctuary —

especially The Father of My 2.4 Children —

here to The North I have

the forest of scrub spruce I love

the stone wall upon which I contemplated

smashing My Precious Life Glass —

how dare anyone

even a neighbour I like

enter across My Eastern Ocean View

upon which I gaze with such favour —

out there I can let My Mind

be free — free of past

hurt and negation

free of obstacles to My Happiness

so profound

as I stand before

the shores

of My Intellect


The Hawk Queen Bed 8:38am

I didn’t want to get up

this morning

after standing prostrate

in the window cross

of the TV Room

for two hours

after My X Husband

hung up on Me

when I asked Him

about My Paintings

He had dumped

and while I stood there

with My Arms out-stretched

I saw A Speck

on the ceiling

and I revered It

as The Speck

of My Abortion

He forced Me to have


The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 10:45am

EYE am out from under

the seduction of lavender sheets

and the purple quilt

of My Daughter’s Room —

with the window open to hear

the birds and the waves —

all I wanted to do yesterday

was give My Children’s Father

a great big hug

and burst into tears

but this morning My Hunter made the coffee

while I switched beds

and decided to row


Port Clyde, NS 4:18pm

secured on My Left Hand

by the diamonds of My Current


I am in the middle

on My Right I’m decked

by the self-bought bands of My Spiritual


and today I have spoken to

My First Husband

The Father Of My 2.4 Children

after He appeared in This Morning’s


just before

I woke up


The Hawk Kitchen 12:25pm

Stuck inside a snow globe

looking through Her Sliding Glass Doors

to The Ferocity of Earth

laid out before

Her Feet

seen from above

— or any angle for that matter —

She has six cats

two grown children

two husbands under Her Belt —

She dashes off poetry

as if The World

is All Hers


The Hawk Computer 6:04 pm

My Husband, Dr William Hunter Blair, now believes

that My World Trade Center Roof Top Painting from 1984

titled Self Organizing Galaxy

may have given someone the idea

for 9/11