from Serotinalia by Cricket Blue

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I’m reaching out again, but not to ask you ‘round.
(Object of my honest prayers and wishing coins tossed down.)
I’ve been thinking on my spiteful curse,
when, on that April first I’d expected to enjoy,
you couldn’t use your words. (Oh, modern boy.)
So do I deserve amends? (The lake-swell gnaws the land.
The line of vision ends. The coin stays in my hand.)

Jack, my guy, your June’s getting by.
Above the unclean stove, I hung a crayoned paper doll.
Been worried flying ants are hiding in the wall.
There are these lengthy stretches I forget to think of you at all.

(O Bernadette, O Augustine: am I still a bright bouquet?
Make me a billow, or make me a boat — I want away, away, away.)

Forced by the blinding fog to wait by the highway-side;
hiding away in some hotel as all our clothing dried.
Always known I’d be a long-haul gal.
And was I wrong to tell you, that twenty-fifth of March,
talking arm-in-arm below the arch?
Did I tear apart the spell with a small, unwelcome sound?
(Bless the ugly dog heavy on my socks as I write this down.)

Jack, my friend, your June can fend.
My poetry’s online now. I’m approached by graceful men.
Cross-legged, from the porch, I’m spying on the hen.
At times, I take you up, but always lay you down again.

(O Agatha, O Valentine: a lamb’s gone astray.
Make me a billow, or make me a boat — I want away.)

Jack (who was mine), your June is fine.

I set out all your tasks for you,
signed my little nom de plume:
eat your daily bread in quiet;
lift the windows of your room;
learn to slow your skittish breathing
(which’ll worsen, I assume);
and throw away the fits and worries
that you bury and exhume.
And when you start to panic,
when you have some afternoon —
come and see your June.


from Serotinalia, released May 10, 2019
John Dunlop | Cello
Christopher Hawthorn | Trumpet
Sofia Hirsch | Violin
Laura Markowitz | Viola
Robinson Morse | Bass


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Cricket Blue Burlington, Vermont

Indie chamber folk to make you weep into your tomatoes.


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