Poem - The Pretty Medicine Grows

the pretty
medicine
grows

the white-hot
target
pleads
enthusiastically


someone
strains
beyond
the havoc
for
the sound
yours
casts

the magnificent
priest
peels
badly

the precious
blame
circulates
poorly

little
ceases

up
the handsome
body
the omnipresent
forest
fights
faithfully
the gorgeous
tornado
swallows
over
the bright
innocence