We Found Her Poem by James McLain

The lights were bright, our hearts were off
the mind is a tragedy, calling warnings angle.
It took weeks to find all the parts, three were
missing, the neighborhood donated the rest into.
The masks now are of any thing, as is her hair now
the curls are permeated, scalped, same less not is.
You smell like our last life that ended the same
running from the future, now stuck in our past, clue less.
The spare parts, are from the same famous woman,
breast less, holding out for a new continuum twin peaked.
Washing the pillows over, and over, again stuck inside.