I’m the second out of three June's in my family
I’m the only living June
Granny June; I met her, and like how she isn’t alive, so is any memory of her.
I have no image of her face in my mind,
but I like to imagine her hair had curls like mine
I hear about her through newspaper clippings of odd sounding recipes
Through optimistic, kentucky roads
The stars shine like assimilated atoms
A flicker of hope? In two years?
Potential June; I never met you,
but your mother sat on a faux leather booth with your sister hanging off her arm.
She spoke of you with a smile on her face
And hope in her eyes
you only saw the acidic fluorescence of Christ hospital.
The stars shone again
Two more Junes in the night sky,
The bright stars I mistaked for Venus
in the lonesome roads of optimistic kentucky