James McLain Eating Poems

Beneath the moon's pale gleam, I sit alone,
The sea's cool breath weaving through my robes.
Upon my lips, the ocean's secrets flow—
Each oyster a pearl of the world untold.
...

Feathers fan in bloom,
colors whisper, beak meets palm—
trust in quiet hues.
...

it was not the sea side nor her other fine salon
and yet about you, wrapped within it
you were windy there,
moving as you moved the way you do.
...