MEDUSA

MEDUSA

stared into
the face of suffering

your
hard suffering
that turns
to stone

turned me
to stone
relief to
my soft
suffering

equality in
the transaction
turning us
both
to stone

and they we were
amongst, what she
we call them
that
host of statues,
perhaps effigies?

but there you are
reptilian, murderous,
no crown
of thorns to adorn
only headdress of vipers
spitting, writhing,

their eyes
trying to make sense
of my pity
my sorrow

only thing to
match
your anger

blow for blow
run with your wrath