Gorgoneion

Four girls, heads together

Wish to be seen seeing me.

Their gaze sashays past mine, and in their hair

Fork-tongued ribbons turn to snakes,

Babbling in hisses, as their mistresses do,

Dancing as though my faltering words

Were music from a charmer’s flute.

The girls look at me,

Then away,

Prodding, disconcerted, at their sibilant hair.

They do not know that to be Medusa

You must stare down your prey.

Photo by M. Wessels from FreeImages