Punishing Dark Confessional Poem by James McLain

How much is ever enough?
The foam of the waves, does she care?
Today while I was asleep.
They were awakened by you as I dreamt as I slept.
Their buses say flag on the side of them.
Walkways, where they walk are full of them.
Buldging out, blushing at the seams.
Swans that are seemingly there.
In those blue eye's as snow, bottom threadbare.
It is this side of phat that gives way.
The naked eye is full of the brush, when the sides.
Back and forth bemused,
all the writing it takes to discuss it.
I will come back when you ask me.
Even here where they all must now watch us.
Straightforward to the center of the eye.
I am like you about it, thinking about it.
It is humid there and here all around it.