Becoming June

Back to the nine to five, forty hour a week grind

as I clamp my teeth in my sleep clenching my jaw away

anxiously awaiting my lunchtime PB&J -

I drop the uneaten wheat crust on the break room table.

I’ve lived a life so unsure, yet captivated by its very essence

afraid to be known by any name other than June.

I head back to my cubicle, repeating over and over again

try to hold on until June when my dreams begin to bloom.

Breaking up the monotony of my ecstatic-less workday

sips of coffee replace lost identity as I stare at the wooden

and metal frame desk, it’s wavy grains weave feelings

of servitude inside my chest attempting to banish thoughts of June.

Ensuing workload makes the feeling grow, emotional imbalances

begin to steal the standing room only show, shoulders begin to buckle

from the growing social weight as several hours tick down

I re-position myself unabated by technological advancing sounds

my body lessens, I rise and walk with ease away from the corporate

chessboard which does not please me, no longer a fool to the

political pawn for tomorrow’s dawn shall introduce June.