Medusa

She prowls her home, always on guard

Forever weary of intruders, of invaders, of men coming inside.

Remembering the one she had foolishly let in

So long ago now, but far too soon to forget. Always too soon to forget

She remembers the roughness of his hands

Like sharp scales ripping at her skin, tearing grooves into her flesh

She can feel the storm in his eyes, a deep coastal chill

Seeping into her, like great waves washing over her

She can feel his pearled teeth on her neck,

Ignoring her blood, or reveling in it perhaps, she’ll never know for sure

The feeling of his sweat pouring over her,

Like an ocean mist washing over her skin. Leaving his musky scent behind

The smell of salt still makes her sick,

She knows it always will now. The barest hint of salt breeze turns her gut.

After his leaving, she cried.

Her own salt pooling on marble tile, her own ocean of despair, what irony in this?

She clung to his niece, collapsed at her knees.

Her wails make the temple shake, her tears stain the gossamer gown she wears,

Gentle gray wraps around her, the hoot of owls overhead

“Never more” she promises her, “Never again will he come. I will make you safe.”

Golden strands turn slick and warm, living, hissing, alive

              They kiss her cheeks with their soft noses and gentle tongues, wiping her tears

Soft porcelain with silk skin blooms into solid marble lining steel bones

              His marks are carved away until only the memory of him exists, it’s enough to shield her now

Her tears dry as her pupils tighten and shine a new

Eyes of the gentlest green burn and sizzle into the most deadly of yellow.

She is reborn, her body is remade, reformed.

              She is ready to reclaim what he has taken. Like a wave washing shells from a beach.

A woe to any man who stands in her way.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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