June Christy: Two Poems

1. There's a tone.

The Woman breaks that note off, takes
Herself back to the window. She
Doesn't have to make any excuses.
Not for me, not for that bastard;
She knows she won't see him again.
There's a broken section of horn rhythm
& a straight shot from the drummer man.
The Woman maybe won't think about this
Anymore. Maybe she will walk through an
Evening surf, dealing with her loneliness
A step at a time.

Don't you know how brave that is?
She was just a small town girl from here,
Where I am these days. I can almost see her
Downtown. I can almost
Hear her asking for the paper.
That tone.

2. See, I knew Her—
Knew the girl part, knew the woman part,
Knew the need to walk away part.
I saw her grow up. Oh she had
A different name, lived in a different year
& I know June was living in Sherman Oaks
At the time. But still, I knew
Her, saw her take the necessary
Steps. Watched her surrender to the
Man who meant security, while
Clinging to the one night stand w/Belafonte.
She was resilient, determined
To be brave, to die in the desert,
Drinking a sloe gin fizz while
Indulging that pink sundown on the rocks,
Breathing broken cactus leaves,
Torn free by a bad wind.

But I still play those
June Christy sides, there's
Some truth there, some news,
Some of it even good.
Call that tone—resistance.


Among a larger group of poems written because of my obsession with the great jazz singer June Christy. I discovered June Christy while living with Pat Smith, who knew her work in high school and college. Later, in NYC, I discovered there were many JC albums and I eventually acquired everything. Somewhere along the way I discovered June Christy was originally a girl named Shirley Luster, who was born in Springfield, Illinois and grew up in Decatur. She went to Chicago in her late teens where she was eventually discovered by Stan Kenton and installed as the vocalist in his orchestra. June Christy died in 1990, in Sherman Oaks, California. The second piece relates the character that JC used (particularly in "Something Cool") to an old friend of mine. She had many adventures that she hid from her husband and family. Her method of dealing involved keeping parts of her life in separate "containers".