They say anger is rooted in men,

a second nature under the flesh created by the gods

Men’s nature is crass and harsh and cruel

To the women of their time, they are always this way

Forcing themselves on women’s bodies

Poseidon is no different, for aren’t men

Made in the image of gods?

In Athena’s temple he waited for her

Medusa, a sacred virgin

He thought her a rag to be soiled

And when she appeared to pray,

And give thanks to her goddess,

He took her, whispering to be quiet,

do not let your goddess hear you

And she cried with her mouth shut

And her eyes to the floor

And her heart in her throat

And her hands splayed against the cold

tiles below her as Poseidon took her

And that is where he left her,

At the altar of her goddess,

Her salvation, left to be dealt with

And Athena came down, having heard

Silent cries from the Earth

And found Medusa there, bleeding

And crying and shaking and spread

And Athena was angry at Medusa’s tears,

How could you let this happen to you?

You did not pray enough!

And Medusa did not speak a word,

her mouth a watery line pressed to the floor

And Athena cursed her,

Like the snake you are, temptress,

And Medusa screamed, mouth open

The snakes growing from her head, angry

and hissing with their mouths open

And Athena banished her away,

Left her bare and spread and hissing

On the floor of the cold, emotionless cave

And Medusa was angry and defiled

Twice in succession, and her snakes agreed

Her only company to help her, they hissed

Revenge, anger, fury, malicious intent

And Medusa agreed and stood

She disrobed what was left and cloaked

Herself in seaweed and rotting twine

And cursed the name of her former goddess

And cursed the name of the man who defiled her

And she said, Never Again