Me Too Medusa

physically sick again thinking of you,

boutonniere of white gardenias... you.

empty gardens, empty peace, empty 

except for flying balsa wood planes. 

new classical imaginaries of me too

fly, entangled in a mixed-up narrative 

of the snake-haired Gorgon. Medusa 

holds Perseus’ head facing the NYC

courthouse of Dyke turned to stone.

her Italian artist asks, “how can triumph 

be possible if you are defeating a victim”?

the thief decapitated in bronze eternity

snake-haired martyr reclaims her power. 

curved version of the self in the hour

of your death blame is now well-placed 

on the stalker, the raper, the murderer. 

stand on your pedestal Medusa and tower

over the grounds of Collect Pond Park

golden hair of snakes for you, my stark

reflection.