Clean Rest To Feast Poem by James McLain

Many are the pools in bed
rich languishing roses.
Mothers in woman weeping
freely for lack is want of why.
Dreams are some times only for sleep..
yet you stir and move it is on you
that I see always constantly...
Gnashing, butting as he him self..
It is that I am and as such it casts them
out onto the coast barring those ghosts...
Still the wing of wind blows
coolly to wash you within to
flow out so it falls onto your
cotton shields.Rest it upon.
Your silk is fresh so sweet sky
most clean as are you.
Rest now knowing you may taste the feast.