Poetry Annual 1998	O Y S T E R   B O Y   R E V I E W   [ 8 ]
	P O E M   / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 /
Jon Powell
L O V E   S O N G
The one clear word. That's all I want to hear. A pure bell-like tone. The peal of laundromats. A "pax vobiscum" flung over your bare shoulder as you walk away, mist swirling about your high heels. Leaving me an amnesiac in a clean white light. You piece of ass you.
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