hannah harris-sutro


  i medusa, i
  medusa myself
  and what i see.

  you are igneous,
  	  gravity and motion

  you are magma—
  i thaw.

  you see:
  i, medusa, i
  am not only gorgon,
  surrounded by stones,
  but also the serpent-
  woman who
  		slithers slick
  down neck, around wrist
  tongue flicking to taste
  	your flesh.

  you harden in
  	my flesh;
  you pull me plutonic.

  where i shatter,
  you are pumice. i shed.

  i slip my own dead skin
  over and over, against

  and so our necks
  cross, these pearly scales
  coil around your ruddy.

  two-headed, our fangs sink
  	into our own tails,

  our bodies
  our circles