for all the sad country ju-ly crooners

june river

love is just the lightning
between old
bitterness and the new,
a thunder that tastes like
antique lace catch-
ing in your throat
as if you had swallowed
spiderweb under a honey-
suckled sky with clouds like
cotton-bolls behind a river city
summer choking
with angry greens
& browns, river current
swollen and diverging.
in the low sky
june fireflies wink still,
flashing for loves
of their own.