my life is returning to me
through the sensation of turning corners
in different cities in different stages of light
innocuous sites untethered from why

i find, i am living through peripheral people
watching high, knowing them without any of it
being true
finding my self at an old job,
but the furniture has moved
all configurations tried
another girl in my eyes

june comes closer
but my head is down, i am carving through the past
a finger on the network
without why

i’m just trying
to read about the future, in fact
it was an article about
the end of the world,
but she contorts my vision back
a tick, a latitude
registering each synapse
the will to fire



june is hungry

drinking milk
on mother
hung up to her shoulder
my muddy bulbs looking over
this stirring summer
even blades gentled green
a living cantankerous thing
hungry, keep drinking
a curious june
held to july’s shoulder
she turns down
the pinched tip
milk to rinse the flower

your many others

careful joy crying
how the harbinger does
circle toward the vow

i set you down to see me
and a giggle goes right to
a stern line brow
fascinated by my face
on a face of many others
so telling is trying

for long i have felt a smiling
but it sits inside me out
tucks to find a smile where meeting breast to mouth

in the bath, the first wrinkles
touch your hands, see you are
older than i am, after all, i cry about you

out the tub comes the searching smile
that makes me yours of many others
see the little harbinger
careful joy crying
make me yours of many others


June, the graft

headlong, i see
with a crown

to bend down
at the green shoot
standing still in the snow

i found you.
i say, it
is me

very still you stare
the wind making
a hollow whistle
of your frame

to pull you
close i cut
your cord
and feed you
while we cry

i come to face
you, to see
the graft, of who
you are made

June, it is you
i say, it
is me
and no one

blinded, for june comes through the shades

in fists fecund, closed
and short peach thumbs

a simple tug could pluck
in fact, i watch concerned

you blossomed on intense
and open face where winter hides behind

through whimpers in sudden rain
we stared, what seemed

miles across limpid inches
on the vesseled wrap of rose

eyes memorizing daughter-pink
petal soft nipples

your afternoons and nights,
that hungry way of yours

eager to make born, shining
hot against my breast

the generous stretch of days
find me forever in them, june