Riding the Gorgon Medusa

Who could depict the face of the gorgon Medusa?

They who behold her must turn to stone.
When she shows her ugly face, refuse her!

I went riding on a fine Appaloosa
mare, a beautiful spotted roan,
pointing my quest for the head of the gorgon Medusa.

I couldn’t see her face from behind my saddle
horn, with my spurs and the bone
in my tie, but how could I refuse her—

she and I surveying the ponderosa
together—not feeling afraid, not feeling alone
as we approached the cave of the gorgon Medusa?

The terror of the gorgon Medusa’s in the serpents
she wears for tresses—Caravaggio
and Rubens knew we couldn’t refuse her—

the red mane of my beautiful cayoose all
turned to snakes, her chin and nose
bridling back toward me—the face of the gorgon Medusa
herself! How could I possibly refuse her?