It Is Dreamt

Poem By James McLain

It is much brighter her arms confessions
sob trembled word convulsed tranquility
webs finger soothing balm a lease
doors windows never numbered painted
darkened wisps hovering stealing skin
pots catching lies last breath.

Shiny abject sockets almond smell
pull at lips cover a nose to stall
full ripe breasts saggy tips knead knotted
patched hair makeup absent lash
hovers sweaty coughing pointing tongueless
throbbing rooted full blooded made seedless.

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Is it poetry? Depends on your definition, really.


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