Is this a...

Bouts Rime???



Bouts Rime: Oh, June


I meant to live the easy month of June
but lost him there inside the clock and stress.
He took his dogwoods, swallowed up his moon
and- hoarding fireflies- left me to obsess.


When the grass woke, she swore and called "You snake!
You evil June, to slip away!" But moot
without the June, the grass she died to cake
to brown and rootless, dirt and filth, no beaut.


A loss. A lack of color greening. Garbo—
turned old or sad, or sorrowful. To play
a gorgous woman takes a man or hobo
to lurk and watch, all night or June or day.


My June misplaced my lovely—and these rhinestone
words can't fill the loss. Spangled. Cologne