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 Jun 2014 June Montag
bones
4.52 am
 Jun 2014 June Montag
bones
Not til the third
maybe fourth
deep sip
of sweet tea
does my body
begin to cushion
the boneknocking
rhythm of
the drumming
that has rolled
it's welcome
like carpet
over the dark hours
and the Wessex plains;
my face is one
of sleepless thousands
turned east
waiting
the return
of a warm
hearted friend
for the longest of days,
I stand in
fields of good wishes
and the impossible
blue giants
of Preseli feeling
wet grass
between my toes
remembering
another June day
breaking
in a place
not so very far
from here
where the drumming
was the beating
of club
against flesh
and the wetness
at our feet
was dripping and brutal,
I see others
that share
the taste
of undiluted bitterness
and still others
watching strangely
the strange folk
old enough
to know (better?)
than to curse
the footfall
of each passing
police issue
boot; some wounds
time heals
in it's own time
and though
we grow older
I would be glad
now if time
hurried a little;
a gentle breeze
smooths the fields
softly dropping
fine mist
over my ghosts
that thickens
like dark cloth
on the eastern hills,
collectively we stare
at the distance
willing a tear
through it while
up above our
heads there is
a pink sky calling
for the red sun rising
and we are here,
as we always
are, to remember
our tales and bear
witness.
 Jun 2014 June Montag
bones
There are those
who keep
their future rich
with uncertainty,
but Ive never
been more certain
of the one
that waits for me,
if I ever catch
Fate's finger
spelling out
whats going to be
then I'll wrench it
back to front
and start
re-writing history.
while september cicadas
were singing my neighbors to sleep
i was up walking holes in my shoes
over love once lost
so many poems ago
that the only thing i remember
about the house at 38th & bluestone
is that it reeked of alcohol and is
as i'm sure of it
still saturated in perfume
and abandoned laughter
but that's not the point
give me a minute
what i'm trying to say
is i always thought god
enjoyed watching things leave me
it makes me wonder
what was on his mind
that night in september
when i stooped to cough
or tie my shoelaces
i no longer remember why
but i recall their trajectory
the way gravity cradled my hands
and brought them crashing back to earth like a 747
they landed inches away
from a scrap of crumpled loose leaf
folded in half like the smiles
of my relatives on a holiday truce
you see, lately i've been looking for scars in the newspaper
i find myself checking the obituary
for my former selves since the day i found your suicide letter
maybe that's why i can never explain my obsession with history
maybe archeology is just a funeral
in reverse
maybe hell is just rewinding home movies
or watching confetti
turn back into photographs
i never told anyone
the reason the doors to the gun cabinet in my family's house are locked not because they are afraid
i will take my life
but because sometimes
i sing them birthday songs
on the day you died
it makes me think
of how rooms only echo
when they are empty

*you know
i never echoed until you died
 Jun 2014 June Montag
bones
Something made me smile
as I passed the place today
where the beech nuts used to pile
and the squirrels used to play
and the workman with the frown
that is sawn into his face
came to take the old tree down
and leave a raw and empty place.

'Let her be a wooden tombstone,
she was getting out of hand'
declared a rubber stamped official
but he didn't understand
that all her strength was in her roots
and her roots were all still there
and today I smiled and watched
her raise ******* in the air.
AKA Tree tells mankind to f**k off.
 Jun 2014 June Montag
bones
On some days
even quiet days
my only chance
of momentary peace
is noise so loud
I cant hear any more
thought

On those days
in that moment
that deafeningly peaceful moment
my head pounds
much less
than it pounds
in any silence
Ive ever known.
 Jun 2014 June Montag
bones
Heat
 Jun 2014 June Montag
bones
The heat of my youth
is as faraway now
as winters
that burned
in the hearth,
the flames
that once tickled my senses
splutter and cough
in the dark,
I used to see dreams
in the firelight
that smouldered
with promise and hope
but they cooled
with the wait
and when
it was too late
they drifted away
with the smoke.
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