The Gun Poem by James McLain

James McLain

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By

The Gun



How it makes her shudder.
He groans out as.
Shooting stars that do.
Moist the pond is often dry.
The cracked muddy bottom.
Crying not to be touched.
Panties from a limb that hang.
The faint smell of.
A large pit beneath is dug.
The moon is high enough to sit.
Was the gun found in the crack.
To hot to be held.
The night will stay cool until.

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James McLain

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By
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