The Hawk Deck 11:35am
If I hear The Waves
Really Hear
They say, “It’s OK
It’s OK”
–
If I see The Ocean
Really See
It shows Me
Its Serenity
–
If I feel The Day
Really Feel
It tells Me
You Are Here
Really Here
& You Love It
On McNutt Island
I used to sit in our 3-holer privy
with My Mother
who often rested Her right elbow
on Her thigh
right hand under chin
Left Hand draped across
dangling Her Silver Nugget Ring
–
I assumed this same position today
with My Left Hand draped
across My Thighs
& I Was My Mother
I looked down to see My Mother’s Ring
& there were My Diamonds —
jolting Me
with crystallizing light
seared into My Brain
OK’d by My Mother
He steamed out 24 hours
not planning on coming back
when He cut the engine
& sat astern
testing the water:
“It was real to Me
I witnessed It
& same time I’m puzzled by It
I don’t see any reason
I shouldn’t tell It —
Some People may see a UFO
maybe They did
I thought about painting It
It’s so well embedded in My Mind
They don’t have to look like a seagull —
They weren’t
They weren’t a sea hag
They were sort of angelic like
down on the outside —
similar to a glow
20 feet away
2 on top 1 on the bottom
sea hags don’t hover
They were trying to send Me a Message
delicate hair, like angel hair
Something I can’t explain
but It happened”
The Hawk Deck 11:35pm
Oh Fly, why do You light
on My Knee?
Why do You stay awhile —
what makes You go?
Do You know something
I don’t?
–
Oh Fly, why do You light
on My Sleeve
looking at Me
while You wash Your Arms?
Are You as curious
as I am?
What makes You leave?
Are You coming back?
The Hawk Deck 9:42am
I HAVE A CRY
discouraging Me from My Walk
along the Barrington Bay Trail
preventing Me from shopping
at Sobey’s
–
I HAVE A CRY
like The Crow’s Cry
efficient, timely
but MY CRY IS CAWT
The Hawk Living Room 5:23pm
I am situated in A House
by The Open Ocean
A House with sky lights
shooting beams across My Crow Painting
in a cathedral ceilinged Living Room
— the room I lived in before This One
was cathedral ceilinged too
& accommodated
The Shower of Silver Lights
— but I wasn’t going to get into that —
I was going to write
about My Open Window
next to My Tomato-coloured Couch
where I lie here
to take naps
& not to be preoccupied
by saintly hallucinations
The Northerly Sound
has moved to North East
as I step out
on My Deck
I feel like writing
The Sky, laden with cloud
is dramatic
The Fog has gone
off shore
Oh — is that Rain?
Now I hear
The Northerly Waves
I have the bottom
of a glass of wine
twelve dollar very dry
I have supper under
the broiler
I have some writing
Joanna Gilman Hyde 