The Hawk Window Seat 11:22am
I Am Advertising My Self
But I Am Not For Sale —
I’m Free!
–
The Hawk Living Room NOON
She Cried, “I AM IN LOVE!”
& Then She Died
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:07pm
Black Jesus sits in The Snow-Sun
with Her Serengetis on
— a new stylus in Her Silver/Onyx Pen —
She’s on Her Tomato-coloured Couch
a cushioned platform
from Which to make Public Declarations —
Coffee House plays
What will She utter Today?
What will The Grown-up Version
of The Little Child point out
for The People’s Participation —
a crack at understanding
Our Innate Sensibilities?
Our Lived-in Sensitivities?
“What are You waiting for —
We are Alive and Our Humanity
is Our Most Precious Gift
Given To Our Selves
BY OUR SELVES”
The Hawk Living Room 9:30pm
I’m standing, hovering
above My Mini –
fireplace — My Candle
abra in the center
of My Chinese Coffee Table
I just had to write about
it, here in the dark —
no Other Lights are on
I am writing like a blind woman
Yet I have just had the
satisfaction of eating
a President’s Choice
Decadent Chocolate Chunk
Sandwich Cookie
with My wool-socked feet
up before the
flames
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:20pm
The Fall Of Joanna Gilman Hyde
Has Been My Greatest Climb
I’ve Found The Words I’ve Needed To Use
& Boy I’ve Made Them Chime
note: Death of Mother, Elizabeth Walden Hyde, March 27th, 1993
The Tomato-coloured Couch 10:22pm
In The Evening of My Living Room
I caught the very last glow
of My Little Chinese Tea Light
which, when I looked at It
through the top of My Glasses
provided Me with a visual recount
of The Shower Of Silver Lights
which befell Me
in all Its slashing, flashing
Glory on March 31st, 1993
and Which I have faithfully recalled
to My Mind’s Eye
in the broad light
of every day
since
The Hawk Kitchen 2:59pm
an immobilized fly
knows no secrets
adhering, somehow, to the outside
of My Living Room Window
— I thought He was a spy —
when I wanted to write
“What Do I Most
Want To Say –“
and for Whom?
“For My Self”
— I saw He had died —
January 30th The Hawk Kitchen 2:30pm
I have seen The Hawk
again —
have I written of Him before?
flying in His full stateliness
outside My Kitchen Window
from The Scrub Spruce down
to The Shore
and back
again
January 30th, The Tomato-coloured Couch 1:28pm
I Am A Woman
For Whom Future Is Now, Now
Past Now Is Now Dredged
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:25pm
How Many People
Hear The Twenty-two-second
Fog Horn Interval?
Joanna Gilman Hyde 