From (C)OVID'S METAMORPHOSIS, Book the Fourth

The Story of Medusa’s Head

This quarrel cries havoc over off-brand Havarti
& who last let the dogs out to scatter the neighbors’ 
feral children.  The gorgon’s at the back door
& she’s looking for pork that hasn’t been
basted in Lysol.  Twice I’ve loved her & twice 
she’s left me hanging w/ my gravity boots on. 
Before dawn, there’s always  a line straight 
from bedbug infestation to music unheard 
by any mortal.  Set the garbage can on fire
& the kangaroos, too.  You will know when 
it’s time to enter the rocket tube to the hidden 
location.  A gaze that turns flesh to plastic 
& plastic to polyester.  Life was better 
in polyester.  Glamorous birds hunker down
in LA to watch themselves on TV & sing
of a time when a man could go into a restaurant
& sit awkwardly & pretend to read the book 
he’s already finished.  I lost my sense of smell
& taste & my mind & held aloft
the unsightly noggin while the mob cried out 
for family theme dining.

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from (C)OVID'S METAMORPHOSIS, Book the Fifth

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