Smell Of Moon Poem by James McLain

The rocks slapping against the face of your moon.
The ring when it stretches is mind humbling, numbing.
The sun hence for gotten as it streams across the face.
Woman girl whichever to often this the Nuns behavior?
You practice on Fathers not on me and you I knotted.

Driven too it you do it as a child only with people you trust.
By you rainy days and days in private we often both did.
Never a day of fire and sun chosen by you, I am ready.
Your heart once mine was too heavy as I fill it..
I left this world afterwords only to return to you explaining,
listening to the writing on the living wall finger paintings..

The smell of moon, pleased her best, I am horizontal flat.
I flush, I blush, I rush out into her hand, where her mouth.
Each red spot is light blood the night my stones slapping.
There is the other spot green eyes the wolf I am what you.
and you dream of past meetings of being eaten alive
turned inside out the center of your panties gone because there.

Ten angels their are swearing perfect or flawed
I have slipped out beneath your juicy body.
Without my leaving any memory that you were ever there.
Queens are transparent and creamy in silence you sleep.