Das Medusenhaupt
Incantations, bewitching mirrors, serverance to monthly slip ups -
chemical warfare in the womb -
I collect all these brochures
from 11-up,
and slice the cake on words, hungry angry treacherous words;
white coats
to blossoming scholars of the Physics.
Here, I have a shape
to caress in summer dress, to smooth in tenderness,
but to stab when I am a nuisance.
My insurance? My repentance -
crossed and tied
and graffiti on the tiled.
Hieroglyphics attack my pupil
prescribed
and my mouth
flies off the handle.
Shielded,
my hand
is Perseus.