“So, What’s the Connection, if Any, Between Medusa’s Impervious Petrifying Gaze and The Horse of Poetry Jumping from Her Throat?”

 

Many people enter words or even verses

fully clothed, and some in the buff

as if on their way to Eden or some

Persian garden held for Paradise

or—just refreshed going out

 

as happens when the words

and the verses all the more

alight with pearls, corals 

like a necklace on a skin

threaded into coiled-up gleam.

 

For some words or even verses

are like crystal fountain spills

which to enter and to delight in,

one must be a bloom unfolded too.