My Charybdis, My Scylla Poem by Gordon R Menzies

I have torn out my eyes
given them to this ship
stopped my ears with the
wax of sad acceptance
drawn up tattered sail
and let weathered hands
blindly work the rudder
leaning far from
my Charybdis, Memory
only to be torn to fragments
by my Scylla, Imagination
and all the while my heart
insists on being tied
to the mast, your
Siren Song ringing
while its wine red
chest is thumping madly
beneath this toothy moon