in search of medusa

today i woke up
already feeling like
a stone so i 
figured i would
go & find medusa--

turn statue--
feel this body heavy
as it can be--

i woke up
wanting to sink
so badly--
wanting to feel every
inch of myself 
grey & ponderous--

touch me-- i'm
cold-- i'm marble 
& stone--
your daughter of
bones-- phosphorus 
femur & child
of clavicles--
oh statue statue--

i have been
told before that
medusa was an oak 
tree-- a
handful of dry leaves--
that she laughed in
the ripples of a
frigid late-autumn 
stream--
there--trickling
down from a gash in 
my knee--

i tripped
& broke like a 
white carton 
of eggs-- sticky
in my own hands-- these
yolks-- these un-used suns

& some people
say 
medusa takes walks
by the creek--

some say she works the
drive through window
at McDonalds--

others claim they have 
heard the hiss of
her serpents as
she paces library
shelves-- 

she's just
been searching for
a place she can be
less of a burden--

her snake hair 
bites air-- sometimes
even her own face-- 
fang marks on 
her cheeks--

oh they call her hideous--
winged female monster--

& she reads about
herself 
from a big book
of mythology in
one of the comfy chairs

in farthermost corner
of the library
next to musty encylopedias
from 1986 &
maps with sea monsters
snarling
from each corner--

i approach
her cautiously--
put my hand up to calm
one of her snakes
only to 
be bitten--
i lick the blood
off my knuckle

go
she says 
go
you don't want to
be stone--
i promise you--
you don't want to 
be stone--

i tell her that 
i already feel 
so heavy--
that i already 
feel the carpet as
the ocean & i sink
& sink & sink--

sinking
past the ghostly hull
of the titanic &
amelia airheart's 
plane & atlantis's
bright city lights--

i ask her
if she can see 
me sinking

medusa-- she doesn't 
glance at me-- she
glues
her green eyes 
to book page--
she reaches out
clumsily for
my hand-- 
we interlock 
fingers--
she points to a line in
the text

"Medusa was beheaded  
by the hero Perseus--
her head retained the 
ability to turn
it's onlookers to stone"

i frown-- close
book--
i tell
her there is nothing
about her that is
hideous-- 
that they don't
understand her--
that they don't
understand us--

i beg her to see me--
turn to me so that
i can be as heavy 
as i felt beneath my
covers this morning--
heavy as i feel trapped
in my own gravel skin-- 

i feel the snakes
of my hair bite 
gashes on across
my forehead &
neck--
i bleed like dew--

oh medusa hold my
hand in yours--
we'll keep our
faces to books--

i can be 
your statue 
of skin &
heavy heavy 
bone--