Dead Drunk Poem by James McLain

Between two pillows
lays the head.
Half way in.
Disarranged hair
posthumously.
Drying still slightly
though to
the left of the moon.
Condom
nearly all the way in.
Purple ribbed party
Partly out.
One black
and blue eye
that can not see.
Loud blinding flash
from the camera.
While red panties
hang from
the
swollen right ankle.
Spreading
the moon is not easy
feeling
between each clue.
What once was a
perfect
pink rose.