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Becoming Medusa (in progress)

by Sophia Grace

i.

i leave notes on your pillow
because i hate the sound of my
voice in the morning, thick
with sleep, vocal chords pulled
tight against the chilled
early october air. guttural like
crunching leaves, soft sighs in
the breeze.

ii.

i haven't combed my hair in weeks,
snarled snake nests that once held curls
cling tightly to my scalp, pulling,
kneading at the skin. i brush my
teeth in the dark, facing away from
the mirror. i pray that the reflection
that i remember hasn't changed.

iii.

i forget myself, have forgotten myself.
the days slip unnoticed into night
as the world spins silently. i have
watched myself slowly disappear these
last months, breathing through the
pain of this transfiguration.

06/21/2010

Author's Note: this is unfinished. i imagine it always will be.

Posted on 06/22/2010
Copyright © 2024 Sophia Grace

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Tom Goss on 06/22/10 at 01:01 PM

Feels solidly finished to me. Wonderful throughout!

Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 06/22/10 at 03:23 PM

Well what's here is pretty damn good. I hope you keep that in mind.

Posted by Therese Elaine on 06/22/10 at 03:36 PM

Perhaps what is left to say is for you to inscribe under your skin -because this is beautiful as it is, in its angst and heartbreak, and some states never quite complete themselves or dwindle away -they simply evolve...as we do.

Posted by Katerina T Nix on 01/23/11 at 07:11 PM

I LOVE the imagery in this piece. Great read.

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