Highway 103, NS 2:22pm
Today I washed some dishes
left by My Daughter
in the house in Atlantic
My First Marital House
where My Third Child was conceived
and aborted on the anniversary
of My Mother’s Death
–
My Daughter is going to college
this weekend
My Son is out west
— I may see Him at Christmastime
and .4 — that’s what I call Him/Her —
is not in heaven
because I don’t believe in heaven
She/He is still with Me
My Body is My Heaven
The Hawk Queen Bed 7:45pm
When I am old & dying
I want to lie beside an open window
letting in the waves on air
the freshest murmur of the sea
so that I may be carried off
to My Next Plateau
wrapped inside
The Nautilus
of
Sound
The Hawk Portico 12:50pm
I got The Best License Plate Ever
picked out at random from a big drawer
by The Lady at The Motor Vehicles Registry —
It proclaims: FFU
& now My Temporary License
has been removed from the driver’s side
back window
after applications of nail polish remover
& oven cleaner
to get the stick-um off
I got it off
with My Own Spit
Yarmouth NS, afternoon
Today I gave three dollars
to The Art Gallery of Nova Scotia’s
donation (admission) box
Today I gave three dollars
to a hungry (He said) bum
who remembered My Brother Howard
but didn’t know
He had died, or how
Today I gave My Daughter
fifty dollars
for a pedicure
The Hawk Library 5:25pm
I sit across from The Golden Gleam
of My Husband’s Collection of Folio Books
it is here I can prepare My Dream
of Intelligence vs Intellect
recollect My Childhood Scheme
gathering boxes of My Mother’s Junk Mail
calling Them My “Indeportanz”
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?
Joanna Gilman Hyde 