The Hawk En-suite Bath 7:30pm
In My Floor-length
Mirror
I strike an imposing figure
sealed in grey
layers
Silver Chains
I am the correct weight
for a Woman My Height
which is tall
as My Lacquered Hands
will reach
With These Hands
gilded in Gold
I reach for The Sun
never to forget The Moon
I observe The Stars
— The People —
living & dying
forever on
Our Earth
The Hawk Kitchen 4:41pm
The First Recognizable
Call
I’ve heard for Spring
is that of The Jay
My Childhood Friend
with the tumult
of waves
breaking through
the new rain
DTC Natural Store, Barrington Passage 11:30am
Today is the 22nd
Anniversary
of My Mother’s Death
& I have anointed
My
Self
with Vanilla Bean
Lotion
given to Me
by a healing friend
The Hawk Kitchen 8:05pm
Tonight @ Supper
which I didn’t burn
My 2nd Husband
accepted
that I Am
The 2nd Coming
Of Christ
The Tomato -coloured Couch 5:17pm
I curse God
from High Places
like My Inner Core
He deserves nothing less
than My Verbal Onslaught
witnessed by My Husband
as I rail against His Glory
so exempt
from what I
stand for
The Hawk Kitchen 1:22pm
When I reach for My Life Glass
I am reaching for My Past
My Future
I am reaching for My Laundry Basket
My Plate of Lunch for My Husband
I am reaching for The Love
of My Life
& I am reaching
for The Fluidity
of My Grace
The Hawk West Desk Window 3:00pm
I have two worn out Birks Boxes
for My Single Silver Pen
re-established in Its Domain
each time I finish
writing — oh like a body
underneath a coffin lid —
lay Me down in a tomb
marked for eternity
by Ever Stylish Artists
with Their Magic Implements
recoiling
from Their Brevity
The Hawk Outpost 7:15pm
The early evening light
light of spring
still in mid-winter temperatures
lays itself across
the yard, weeding its way
through The Scraggly Apple
turning pinkish gold upon
My Favourite Spruce
lighting up the rooftop gables
down by the Eastward shore
Joanna Gilman Hyde 