Poverty And Unplanned Parenthood Poem by James McLain

Unwanted,
Green leaves cling to the crown of tall trees.
She just wants to much snow.
Limbs rub back and forth in the wind, bushes busy
Bow to the urgency of showing, nothing at all.

Bitches in heat, rutting not for a child, but in the quiet,
Room wet, slapping sounds that aren't waves.
Unprotected,
Each child will come into her world a world of her yes.
And without resources,
There is no room left in this our unnatural State.

Without wings, flying with but nubs for feet, nothing special
About dull witted mind's, being told
That they are gifted by women whom used the part's of five different
Names no one can say they were named with.

Rotten seeds, thighs covered in snow,
Vicious rats caught
In the shadow of some gang, chanting useless word's,
Quantitatively,
Easing them into nothing but death or state prison.