Memories Poem by Tim Carlson

Straddle love,
anesthetise love.
For it's never ending furies
tie up almost all
willing hearts.

Openness. The curse,
head flung back,
salted, dry images of your,
own sorrows.

Time flails forward,
like the fish, sweet flesh,
release is uncommon.

The storm passes, my eyes,
accustomed to the world of
fighting men and the entanglement,
of women.

Smile again, until the next
rendezvous with the snake's poison,
potent to the touch, but yearned for lustfully.