Caricamento in corso...

Medusa

Glass sand blisters lizard soles,
my flesh is a railway map marked
with cracked jade. I suffocate
 
on dripping wax in the Land of
the Sahara and curse Poseidon’s
submergence in salt lakes.  There
 
are still eyes on me here, cloudy
brown pupils twisted with repulsion
at the reptilian women. A man
 
follows me, wanting to catch
a snake, his breathing heavy
with desire, salmon tongue
 
moist with thirst. I turn around
and stare into muddy eyes, he
shatters, a carcass of stone.
 
A piece of him is in my pocket,
the sharpness against my hip
bone sends waves of power
 
up my spine. I feel God-like.
Sleeping on melting tarmac,
hunting for chow in the day–
 
my shadow sticks to my skin.
I began to talk to myself, words
fill the barrenness, convincing me
 
that I am still breathing. At first
I though the snakes were shedding.
Crisp leather made trails behinds me,
 
yellow and black swirls of grotesqueness.
I soon realise death is upon my head,
the hissing fades to a lone serpent tongue–
 
mine. Boyhood is above me, golden veins
hold Zeus’s sword, Athena’s shield
reflects deformity into crimson
 
orbs. I sob venom tears as Perseus’s
blade slices through my peach throat.
He carries sin on one shoulder–
 
I am a trophy, scarlet and dewy eyed.
A severed head is a remainder to all
women, never think you can get
 
away with it. Poseidon still rules
the waves, his head untouched.
His named unstained.

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