I am not who you said that I was, but who
You said I could be.
This is all that I am said she and each morning
She had her long suck.
Deep bottles of purple wine.
You are mine I rose up standing out, like a tower
Made from marble, white as snow.
From the hand on the clock seconds moved, against
The night before dawn came.
For women beget what no men can not, foam on the
Rocks, washed to far out to sea.
Copyright © James McLain | Year Posted 2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem