With Each Swallowing Poem by James McLain

That it has more,
it is added and as it becomes,
it is dark and it is rich extreme,
so unprocessed that smell does and I you/me breath
and the small head where the new small baby
swells it moves and it starts,
it inhales being, besides the fact that, the mother
and you it takes, before the shape which from the chest
and it exposes it is heavy and full,
it is pointing us to the eye,
as for her that it bends and that it is twisted,
to the point and the milk
growing which, wide the arc and it burst the heart,
me as for the sibling of that mouth,
and power that you shout greatly rather than
and being extreme, my younger others head,
and the mother you see, still it is large rather than
and being extreme, that, the bubbles of milk you smile from the erupting which comes, the crack point,
with resignation my sibling that mouth, the mother you squeeze with all that you take and with me and him of the sounds,
which is heard with each swallowing
and all of that which is swallowed later another one is drained,
he says,
drops fill, full that ever empty mouth
where all the milk
and where she is/it is white and cotton has been attached to it.