The Last Silk Worm Poem by James McLain

You opened it up and the silence was loud.
You are pretty,
You are more than coat hanger pretty.
Invisible,
wearing coat hangers, dull eyed dresses.
The last silk worm,
that came to you first is now emptied out.
The harder you spin it, try.
The silk leaves,
having left the mulberry tree, lay scattered about.
Vital is the force,
whereby the runways upon which are walked.
Pretty ankles,
hidden behind masks made from milk.
Pretty dear's,
drink rich the fat from the creamy milk.
Relinquishment is each mask they applied.
It watches and waits,
it trembles, it sings as it waits for the day you arrive.