gorgon

according to myth,

the gorgon was not always a monster

until the day she and the god of the sea were caught together on Athena’s sacred grounds

and the goddess cursed her in a fit of rage.

ode to medusa.

 

there is no greater sin than to take another woman’s man.

or to have him in another woman’s temple, with your mortal sweat on another woman’s holy steps

all this poseidon.

all this deified masculinity

and you, bored with your humanity, with all your ungodliness,

giggling over what belongs to no one just because it was fun in the moment

it is usually first come first serve when it comes to that godly type of sin

but we are women, we never come first,

and you were just serving

a master or a god or the difference doesn’t really matter when you’re in another woman’s temple

and maybe you were just there to pray, 

but she feels the cold marble and warm skin through yours

and blinded by fury and the godliness of man, curses you and--

they call you a witch. a snake.

it’s almost fitting how this word has come back to bite us.

and now it is reptilian tongue down your throat, scalp swarming with more suitors than you would have ever wanted.

hell hath no fury like a double standard scorned, like a woman weighted in shame.

and indeed she was not of hades

but when two are in the wrong, we know who takes the brunt, because the man always happens to be a lot more immortal.

whether the deity looks like a quarterback or a CEO

half of us are born with chain mail and the rest are just easy targets

and in a split tongue world, 2 wrongs usually just end up making women mad at each other, which is further from right than left could ever get.

which is why when a man cheats, everyone ends up flying to that fated other woman.

as if she lured him away. as if he had no choice in his leaving. as if there can not be more than one person at fault. there are entire subsets of art dedicated to blaming the girl, to making monsters out of misunderstandings.

but at least none of them are beautiful.

at least none of them rival the sculptures, the statues, the aftereffects of injustice.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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