Taboo The Thought And Concept Poem by James McLain

Taboo the thought and concept; dripps fear
and the hand of thought spreads you apart,
while darker yet she begs all night and splits.

Smelling the blood, the pan beneath her sits,
and the valley,
so rich and hot now fertile foams at the mouth.

The moss stays stiff and tangled even too dawn;
and the limb heavy cracks through,
for another hot day as the city coughs to life,
leaving the last dropp of night a tear on cottons face.