How High Can You Hang Poem by James McLain

Woman by your service, you cry, ..why..?
No one has even chained you up yet,
to the wall.
Look at all of the tears dried there,
and rice white powdered face.
Time how much time, would you wast?
Come! ..
Climb up onto the wall of your shame
..now..!
Here take my hand, you will come to
know it, O' Italy.
Grand were the arenas, where I found you,
the sand wall upon which you lived and bled.
Those chains you I made,
before even Caligula found you so infatuating.
Come..climb up..
they are forged for your hands and feet.
You would come again,
to know the beat of your own heart.