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by Sasha A. Palmer

Your punishment is just, o my Athena,
I earned it well, pinned to the silent stones —
The marble floor of your most sacred temple —
My mortal frame crushed by the salty weight
Of god-forsaken seas, me breathless, drowning...

Yes, I am to blame, I should have maimed myself
Before you did, that way your lowly rival
Would not have set his piercing eyes upon me,
I would not have become a helpless vehicle
For his revenge, his settling olden scores.

The fault is mine, so is my fall, my shame,
My gruesome death and unexpected solace
That sprung with blood out of my broken neck
And tore away the curse that hid the blessing —
My sons, my life, my offspring golden, winged!

And you, o shining Poet, when the stallion —
My Pegasus — awakes your eager quill,
Stop for a moment to recall Medusa —
The once fair maiden with an open face
And tresses flowing in the ocean breeze.

Copyright © 2020 by Sasha A. Palmer

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