Medusa’s day off I forget sometimes and scratch my scalp, come away with bite marks on the finger tips, at the bare bone of the knuckles -- those little bastards are vicious these days, biting the hand that doesn’t feed it; the new diet is killing me and my therapist says I need to go out on a date; I’m stuck behind that moving truck at the flashing yellow intersection, and happen to glance out the window – the poor jogger is stone; I honk at the truck, readjust the sunglasses, the hat and hope I make it home before I freeze the world over.
Monday! I feel like a gorgon today -- so I wrote about it. luckily it still fits
into my American Sonnet, girl model :)
“glance out the window — the poor jogger is stone” — I love this! What a brilliant take on Medusa.
I like that you give Medusa some hope at the end 😉
I love the fact that you’ve found such a strong corollary for her frustration and rage with the traffic.
And, as always, your final couplet is phenomenal (and spoke to my Monday morning rage…)