Medusa’s Version

The second they saw his face,
they started to hiss and rattle,
silly kids in a ruckus
of desire. 

Their bodies rose up and waved
like sea grass:
that same anchored turbulence,
that grace.

It’s dangerous to stick around
when a man confronts
his fears.

He cut them off at the follicles. 
He sealed the roots
with fire.

The story goes,
I saw myself and died
of fright;

the truth is, it was years
before I learned
how to miss them.

Until then,
I was just another girl
with a hair cut,
prinking in the mirror.