The Gorgoneion
I saw you first under velvet baldaquin,
Brandishing that shield as an honoured marquis,
Might spent, in weaved brocade the new majesty,
Yet still you held the stare of the assassin,
While in masks of greasepaint the harlequin hides,
Clearly through fiery l’aura I see His awe,
Above Madonna in pietà , cast waugh,
Looking down on the putto scratched in tired eyes.
Yet descant howls awaken the dark lagoon,
Fashioned out of deep umber, tendrils flowing,
Bloody larvae ooze vipers, curled arabesque,
Cast in gesso, I see her under the moon,
She spits acid blood that cuts through ice glowing,
Look at her with eyes, for a harlequin’s jest.
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