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Medusa says —

I was wisdom
once,
black as night.

Now they call me:
     monster,
     gorgon,
     hideous-faced.

So I hide
behind this hissing curtain
of hair.

Lost
little ones,
breathe easy;
you are free
to not see.

But
what is a lonely
old lady to do?

I still wait
for some daughter,
     some son,
so wounded by the world,
to seize these snakes
and part my locks wide.

I still wait
for some bold, tired
     wild child of mine,
determined to die
seeing what’s reflected
in my unblinking eye.

Ivan M. Granger

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