Medusa [a poem]
This being part two of the poem triptych I have been working on about climate change (yes I was bullied as a child, why do you ask?), the first being here.
We saw her in a dream,
She watched us naked and terrified,
"How do I calm down all these fucking snakes?"
Could you crawl inside of me?
Could you turn my heart to flint?
I don't want to feel like this any more could I be a pebble?
Could you turn me to granite?
Slow down let me acclimatise. I mean
Snakes are almost too on the nose. I will say that.
But your crimson irises I was in Pompeii
The second you saw me.
And I was ruthless with love.
I could have killed you with it.
They'll never paint me like they did you!
They never love me, murderess, like they loved you.
I'll never have a statue carved in my honour.
I just feel like we would get along.
Where she sees me immediately as kin,
Doesn't turn me to stone,
And together we plot our next move.
Me and Medusa plotting our own downfall,
Lips stained with red wine.
"The snakes are returning to the earth," she sighs at one point, as the forest fires ravage.
"I am glad you are here", I tell her in reply.