His Fingers Hands And Wrists Poem by James McLain

I want you to by me inside past
My hands and wrists.
High heeled shoes pitch black as black
As a low moon less sky.
We are both alcoholics somewhere last
Night she found me.
Watching the gold fish inside their bowl
Swimming in circles puts me to sleep.
I'm doing this for you she says to me I
Feel like I'm in elbow deep.
She's moving in circles now and it's to late
She can find her own way out I need a
New pair of shoes the soles worn out.
She asks my name I blurt it out my name
Is Charles I say.
I watch finish dressing nothings said
It's hot outside I'm not going out.
And I hear the faucet slow drip, drip.
I hear the door slam shut.