here is the red medicine you made
                                            gifted me

see how this puzzle box makes it appear opaque?
just an illusion– yet another of so many

it burns the skin of some, perhaps a secret kind of test
a tell tale sign of- something we shall learn of later
i don’t dare let anyone hold the bottle
when they peer into my apothecary
they want to keep it
asking how it was conjured
i tell them no, they cannot have it
and that it will hurt them most definitely

i am stoned by mid day you know
i see no reason to have clarity at such an obscene hour
by 2300  i have come around
make the good medicine
fill orders- i do it by dream, navigate by these red woods
these willows-Artemisia vulgaris rising
and sing or shove the white lace in my mouth to stifle the screams
i weep in secret- still too proud