The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:45pm
I have delivered A Prayer
— The First I’ve Ever Written —
through The Sacred Postal Service
but I don’t know how
My Children’s Grandfather
will receive It
The Hawk Deck 10:40am
22nd Anniversary of My Mother’s Brain Tumour Diagnosis
I live in a place
where women wear Their Robes
until noon
where cats meander across
other people’s lawns
where The Fall Sun
allows You a final stipend
of sitting on The Deck
where You reflect on a past
You know now
is gone
The Hawk West Desk Window 7:38am
A Teenager’s Lament to His Mother:
“You had Me believe in Santa Claus
You had Me believe in The Easter Bunny
Now You ask Me to believe in God?”
The Hawk Dining Room 3:53pm
I rest My Chin
in The Child’s Posture
between My Fists
I contemplate The Greyness
of My Ocean
It’s All Mine
nobody
can steal It
away
I
will
hold
It
to
Me
within My Veins
within My Flesh
within My Insides
I Am The Salt
I Am The Water
I Am Here
in The Child’s Stance
The Hawk Portico 4:22pm
On one of these rare days
in early Fall
so still
I’ve decided to stay
on The Hawk
instead of driving to Barrington
for a walk
on The Trail
while Hunter rows —
I cannot miss
this outdoor treat
of sitting in My Red Deck Chair
with My Front Door open
to The Sounds of My Daughter
readying in the kitchen
for tonight’s drive
back to
College
The Hawk Deck 11:22am
Take away The Question
what do You have
That Which Is
all around You
in front of Your Blazing Eyes
at the touch of Your Sticky Fingers
at the smell of Your Pristine Nose
at the lure of Your Thankful Ears
at the taste of Your Capable Tongue
The Meaning is in Your Voice
in Your Gesture
in Your Mind
The Hawk Deck 10:45am
How Ironic, My Private Gold
— I wrote Gold! —
told Me I am A Star
“so go to sleep”
— She told Me
to go To Sleep!
while here now I am waiting
watching
to see The World
awake!
The Hawk Deck 10:40am
I’m a wanna-be Spiritual Leader
I wanna teach Humanity
to love Itself
How corny is that?
Here on My Deck I love
in The Light Of Morning
I wanna cry out
“Love Your Selves!”
The heck with God —
We bumbling Humans
are where It’s At
Look what We can make
of Our Selves
Wanna Bet?
Joanna Gilman Hyde 