Flaming June


Flaming June,

Riper than May,

Whose fruit is plucked

in anticipation of

sweet flesh;

Only half-eaten,

thrown to the ground.

Lying in a sheet of fire,

An angel,



from heaven;

No, no- not Rossetti’s Jenny,

sleeping between the

sheets of sin;

You are TOO awakened.

The peace of your face,

the spun silk of honey


And your velvet hands folded

beneath your breasts-

No, no- not pink-nosed from

the dried tears of guilt,

Wept by Fetti’s Sleeping Girl-

Not a Magdalene;

But a dove, whose wing is clipped,

looking with lament to the

skies from whence she came,

Only to return by way of dream.

Summer’s June, instinct presses to prey

upon the virgin flesh,

Feeding man’s insatiable appetite;

Flaming June,

not as sultry as July;

Bitten by December’s frost,

Melting upon the pillow;

The stung seeds of a spring flower

can never be sewn again.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s