Party Line Poem by James McLain

i hear them talking, two girls, telling, to talk
one on top, inside the other.
redundancies, as girls do, uncommon famous
for, untill one forbids proloquium, she blurts out.
He would come into my room, and make me feel like,
like i feel, like again he would do every other night, i like crying.
my being of cotton, soft so fabric, so fresh, once pure, so nooo.
she is caught up in the past, her future is paused in her now, still
her other, the girl friend understands, as she is wise,
she sits so alone, on the porch in a swing, her once was the rose
on the edge, of her seat.
the phone dangles from the fudge on top of her stomach, within
one seal thrice, familial.