If Medusa Had a Lover

i.

Fuck me with your eyes

shut—too dangerous to risk them open.

See me like (stevie) wonder-ment:

pleasure braille coating my skin.

Read me like wanting, fold and unfold

me so many times that my dents get dents

and I become unreadable. But you’ll

remember my patterns, even if my skin doesn’t.

“Dangerous” is pejorative, but I’ve been told

I’m bad for you like cigarettes

and local news. Side Effects may include

dry mouth, constipation, and limited mobility.

ii.

I knew there could be a look of Death

but I thought I had control. So when it

snuck up behind my eyes four days ago

and implanted itself into your slurpy flesh,

my insides snaked and my hair gurgled…

Three days ago you groaned

getting out of bed, like

your limbs were heavy.

I said I was sorry, that I didn’t

mean it mean-like. But that doesn’t

change I felt you start

building up. solid.

Two days ago I reached

for you as you walked in,

but you looked at me quizzically…

like who are you and what have you done

with my lover? Retaliation?

(sharp intake of breath: hisssssss.)

Or just a side effect of the slow

crumbling?

Yesterday I tried to give you

a massage like maybe

that would ease the tension

            between us.

But you said press harder

harder love, I can’t feel you.

But I had no more strength to give.

Today I feel your

arteries harden.

your eyes are dying

into a concrete—

            Chimerism at its finest.

iii.

I’ve heard it said that revenge is best

served cold, so now I only eat ice and sleep

without blankets.

I bought a hand mirror, but when I got home

the cold was so serrated that the glass

cracked before I could.

I can’t remember what you said

that made me so mad—

            I can’t feel anything anymore either.