Dark Deaths Poem by James McLain

Happy hookers and education spread across the land
Marshall Tucker kind of bars
stars and stripes the body host dead bodies strawberries
Short cake
strange smell of boodies black and purple bloating
past their father's own
and mother's
crimson pinhole and the windows crimson edge.

The past is all of the confessions never having had
until a certain one.
With lips that play the other side of midnight came.

She plays with trunks
and pulls them out to tuck them in at night.
She squeezed and squeezing,
squeezed until milk came gushing out
and with each
redoubled effort spent milk flowed and came.
To rest upon the lips of all the dead around.