Excerpt from "A Song for Gorgons," by Barbara Deming
Gorgons, unruly gorgons,
With eyes that start, with curls that hiss —
Once I listened to the father’s lies,
Took their false advice:
I mustn’t look at you, I’d turn to
But now I meet your clear furious stare and
It is my natural self that I become.
Yes, as I dare to name your fury,
It writhes awake.