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letra de june - cricket blue

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i’m reaching out again, but not to ask you ‘round
(object  of my honest prayers and wishing coins tossed down.)
i’ve  been thinking on my spiteful curse
when, on that april first i’d expected to enjoy
you couldn’t use your words. (oh, modern boy.)
so  do i deserve amends? (the lake-swell gnaws the land
the  line of vision ends. the coin stays in my hand.)

jack,  my guy, your june’s getting by
above the unclean stove, i hung a crayoned paper doll
been worried flying ants are hiding in the wall
there are these lengthy stretches i forget to think of you at all

(o bernadette, o augustine: am i still a bright bouquet?
make me a billow, or make me a boat — i want away, away, away.)

forced by the blinding fog to wait by the highway-side;
hiding away in some hotel as all our clothing dried
always known i’d be a long-haul gal
and was i wrong to tell you, that twenty-fifth of march
talking arm-in-arm below the arch?
did i tear apart the spell with a small, unwelcome sound?
(bless the ugly dog heavy on my socks as i write this down.)

jack, my friend, your june can fend
my poetry’s online now. i’m approached by graceful men
cross-legged, from the porch, i’m spying on the hen
at times, i take you up, but always lay you down again

(o agatha, o valentine: a lamb’s gone astray
make me a billow, or make me a boat — i want away.)

jack (who was mine), your june is fine

i set out all your tasks for you
signed my little nom de plume:
eat your daily bread in quiet;
lift the windows of your room;
learn to slow your skittish breathing
(which’ll worsen, i -ssume);
and throw away the fits and worries
that you bury and exhume
and when you start to panic
when you have some afternoon —
come and see your june

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