The Hawk Beach 2:57pm
My Father never had Me
or when He did
He pimped Me off
or felt the need
to collect Me from sleepless
hotel rooms —
His Best Hope for Me
(My Brother He had given up on)
was to say,
“You are in ‘Recovery'”
Well — if He could see Me NOW
down by The Guzzle
in The South Wind of July
sitting in The Sand of My Achievement
He might come down from Heaven
or where ever He ended up
and shake My Hand
and send Me on My Way
The Hawk Window Seat 7:40am
On this one month anniversary
since seeing My Good Morning Rainbow
and stopping the poisoning of My Brain
I have woken up to The Pair
of Cow Birds
on My Car Mirror —
the first I have seen
of Her
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,
reposing
to be eaten now
with Mint Jelly
from the shady side
of My Mother’s Well
The West Desk Window 11:25am
Eliza’s lovely little room
was an assignment
for Me to sleep
and By God I slept —
I slept and woke —
woke and slept and dreamed
and tossed off My Love Ring Quilt
and watched The Sun emerge
from The Eastern Waters —
I listened to the early birds
the crows and gulls
and song birds
and yes, the funny funny Rooster
I watched The Sun hit
the wall by the door
and now I am out of there
I have returned to My Husband
and The Cats —
the old dilapidated comforter
the mismatched sheets
and the open window to The West
Eliza’s Room 8:43pm
As I walked the lines
of shoes and sneakers
measured in the sand
I saw a track of feet so bare
veer off into the frothy foam
I wondered at the line
of tide which consumed
their salty prints
and merely as a bonus
saw
their re-emergence
further on
The Hawk Deck 1:50pm
What Does It Mean
To Be A Bird?
Not Just That You
Can Fly —
You can take care of Your Self —
feed Your Self & Your Young —
(though not Your Young if You’re a Cow Bird)
preen Your Self & bathe
stretch Your Wings & Your Claw Feet
fluff up Your Glistening Feathers & bow
Exclaim from Your Perch —
Yes, Exclaim
in Your God-given Voice
that You are Happy
To Be Alive
Eliza’s Room 9:1pm
From the kitchen
there’s a pink cloud over
The Scraggly Apple
and from upstairs
in Eliza’s Room
The Same Pink Cloud
is stretched along the beach
beyond the wooded scrub spruce
in preparation
for My Good-Night
Eliza’s Room 5:45am
Oh where does My Cow Bird go
when He goes to sleep?
I have seen Him take His Lunch
from a neighbour’s feeding station —
I check His Return
to My Side Mirror
faithfully listening
for His Watery Warble and Squeak
The Hawk Deck 11:11am
I unintentionally saved
a fly
dangling by one wing
from a frayed spider web
over My Kitchen Sink —
I thought He was dead —
I got out the dust mop
merely to sweep Him out
of My View
He stuck to the mop
I stuck My Index Finger
against His Re-instated Body
& He flew away
The Hawk Deck 10:01am
As A Child
the call of The Wild Blue Jay
signified to Me
I had My Whole Life Ahead —
when I hear Him now
I am informed:
“Joanna, You have
Your Whole Life
Bestowed”
Joanna Gilman Hyde 