I, Medusa,
I am used
To every juicy, every venom-laden insult you can hurl;
I’ve heard them all.
Once, when I was young, intact,
My girlish hair smooth, sleek, still, black,
Unwilling I could still attract.
O how the lowly fall!
I, Medusa,
I am used
To the abuse from all the folk who follow what they think’s my tale.
That news is fake:
Snaky, coiling, noisy hair;
Vicious, petrifying stare;
Born a monster; never fair:
Miss taken – my mistake!

I, Medusa,
I am used
To the untruths and to the loose interpretation of my acts.
My stony gaze and frozen heart
Immortalised their mortal part.
Were I a man, this would be art:
Blessed instead of cursed.

I, Medusa,
I am used
To Zeus-like warriors stopped in their tracks, their sudden stricken eyes.
Look – preservation!
Statues wicked, poised, confused –
They should be toppled and abused,
But I, Medusa – I am used!
My mob decapitation.