The Snake, poetry by Roy Eisenstein at
Sammy Sander

The Snake

The Snake

written by: Roy Eisenstein



The Army, the war left a snake in his head
A darkness that no rain can ever cool for long
A spike through the meat of dreams
A stain that never fades

There in the morning coffee or in the tangle of sheets
Under the fingernails and through the gut
Something writhing
Sleeping but never dead

Memories cascade through prisms of black and white
Making metallic noises and the smell of hot rifle oil
The cigarettes of innocence shared

Then the cold return where youth was injured yet again
The hostility that wouldn’t ever let anyone fully come home
The turning of backs
Accusations from the evening news to the street corners
The dirty deal was in
The fix

No one is forgiven
No one saved

Except the snake
It’s still there

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