Midnight Poem Poem by James McLain

My feet wander independently of each other
like the hand my circle does,
my head rubs off the window payne
the yellow mist it does.

String thick vicious yellow pools lay in wait
telling lies to gain the truth
with or without you, moving walls.

Exhaled breath outside pent up sucked in
coming out it's stretched,
by what is bent the lips can't speak
say hi.

The horse that rocks the cradle left inside
eyes that rub my nose,
without a hand her finger tips were toes.