Blithering Sops Poem by James McLain

Lay me down my soul to keep the women
with the soap I sleep to wash all minds
from words I want to read.
Anthony's Cleopatra sweet encroached upon
her cheeks did see the golden rain
the snake made weak.
Yale her flower blooms and may have room
for many natured so.
Method madness lays upon all minds to find
a key that is
your own.
Entwined all thought tomorrow brought a mind
and lap forever glows
in pride.