Tack & Tower - Benoît Pioulard

Crosshatch condensation

Locks latched, it’s my condition

The roil of sermon heresy

Valerian, my angel of mercy

We did, we asked the council

We were blown back by the answer

Something is on in the tower

Break me from Leo down to Cancer

Grafted with scars around cardia

Planted, the rhizome is hardier

Shoulders turned in discretion

Moldered in flagging affections

The trap is active

An approach is gradual

The seconds are slurring

In motions so casual