Antidote
By Steven L Herring

Words wither
wavering in winter
and fall to the ground as dust
Burning desires
Upset with obsession
and a particular
set of skills separates
the wheat from the chaff
but the rod and the staff
are the same snakes
and I am the charmer
Buried in bottles of oil for sale
Sweating and pensive
Swearing that snakes won't bite
The gathering crowd won't lie
It's human to watch people
with slit wrists try
to cover cut throats
Bring the pressure
or watch them bleed out
Supine and sweating
as the poison flows fastly
to my heart
As I lay dying here
with her soft supple hands
caressing my face
realizing that this is not the end
This is the beginning
and all the snakes
are dying in the grass
as she soothes my savage heart
I can't stop smiling