Owl Street lamp forms

swoons on on the untested nightly,

crossed lives spread

ancient powder on even

older remedies and cures.

Blessed be the color of night,

to hide my honest virgin truth.

Their soul is truth in my soul

any remedy,

free of heart,

yet all of soul,

all of soul.

Yet free of heart,

and dare I say contorted

and confusing.

6/8/14