" O June Bug"
I have forgotten words
Utterance of tongue, my red member
no longer curls, repeats.
It is the way of angels to listen to a hum,
afterbirth of star, things unsaid, dust.
June has left her offering
hard shell, soft belly,
legs spooned like thread
She has forgotten her body.
I hold all in a hand
except the one thing
she is able to give.
Dust, brown, dust creature of no rib.
I will die like this,
armor resting on a window's ledge.
A gray covering, small word
of all the lives I wished I'd lived.
© 2002 Treezaa (T. E. Ballard)
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