Medusa

Quietly
in insanity or love,
weaving the laughter

in your Medusa hair
streaming down your breasts
in wild cankerous silence,

do not ask, but do not ask,
do not speak

playing god on rainy evenings
with Damocles’ sword tanned in blue

swinging between fear and longing,
keeping time
quietly,
in insanity or love;

tracing a century in the silence
between your breasts,

counting the gap
between time and time
as we make love,

the notes of Malhar now
frozen
into stone;

a thousand ships sailing to war,
the fading music of wild feet
walking a thousand miles
between fear and longing.

This picture merits a thousand poems.