If Medusa took a Xanny,
would the Xanny only sedate Medusa
or would it also sedate the serpents
writhing in her hair?

***** stheno.
Bossy stheno.
Too loud stheno.
Confrontational stheno.
No wonder she can’t hold down a relationship stheno.
Hormonal stheno.
Did you know Medusa had a sister—stheno?

-
Forgot her name immediately after writing this poem.

(stheno)

-
Thought her name was spelled stethno.

medusa stands proud.
happy and proud and peace filled.
sisters in arms held for worship,
sisters in arms disappeared from grasp.

medusa stands small.
hurt and small and shame filled.
maidenhood stolen and high priestess to athena no more,
maidenhood stolen and cursed with protection.

medusa stands weary.
cold and weary and anger filled.
isolation has become her paradise of silence and stone,
isolation has become her graveyard of silence.

medusa stands tired.
worn and tired and sorrow filled.
awaiting the blow to her neck by perseus' sword,
awaiting the blow to end her suffering.

I think maybe you're Medusa
Though I'm far from stone
Much closer to ******
Far out of my mind

Still

I am frozen, reduced a
Man to a moment in time
When I was sober
And you were kind

Stand like a pillar
Of salt, now lick your wounds and
Try to quench your thirst

I did not choose for it to happen
I did not have a choice
But the gods
They do not care.

And so my hair is naught but snakes.

I came to this cave-
I had to eventually-
My only choice was when.

Still,  I chose the time of my own volition-
the people do not care.
They  blame me.
They say it was my choice to be struck
And drowned
And violated
In the temple I lived in.
They say i deserved the poison,
And they call me a monster.
The snakes may bite me,
But I choose who else they attack.

It is not my fault it happened.
The curse is not my fault.
The people, constantly attacking me and being killed for it-
It is their fault.
And it is the gods’ fault too.


The gods-
They do not care.
They send a boy to attack me,instead of doing it themselves.
Perhaps they feel guilty.

They do not care.

I cannot choose to die-
But I can choose when.
And so i open my eyes-

Foolish.
Used as an object, even in death.

The Octopi Jars
by Michael R. Burch

Long-vacant eyes
now lodged in clear glass,
a-swim with pale arms
as delicate as angels'...

you are beyond all hope
of salvage now...
and yet I would pause,
no fear!,
to once touch
your arcane beaks...

I, more alien than you
to this imprismed world,
notice, most of all,
the scratches on the inside surfaces
of your hermetic cells...

and I remember documentaries
of albino Houdinis
slipping like wraiths
over the walls of shipboard aquariums,
slipping down decks'
brine-lubricated planks,
spilling jubilantly into the dark sea,
parachuting through clouds of pallid ammonia...

and I know now in life you were unlike me:
your imprisonment was never voluntary.

Originally published by Triplopia and The Poetic Musings of Sam Hudson. Keywords/Tags: Octopus, Octopi, Medusa, Sea Angel, Angel, Angels, Nature, Sea, Ocean, Aquarium, Aliens, Imprisonment, Prison, Ship, Ships, Shipwreck