Book IV
So began their affair.
Much to the god’s chagrin,
Poseidon remained chaste
keeping to his bargain
with brother and nephew.
He maintained the disguise
of a rugged sailor.
Medusa would forsake
her priestessly duties
to bask in the glory
of her divine beauty
in mystical palace
within humble conch shell.
She scarcely noticed the
nereids attending
to her every desire.
She could only see her
present suitor’s station.
Her lover was a god,
and all other people
may as well be as stones:
inert and nonfactors.
They laid in each other’s
arms, her struck by Eros,
on a bed of pearls.
Poseidon’s body ached
as he abstained his loins.
“How sweet would her body
be to ride astride me?”
his thoughts constantly asked.
He could possess her now,
for Aphrodite had
sent her son as ally
of Poseidon’s vengeance.
Struck by love’s arrow, she
shan’t refuse amorous
advances of a god.
Yet it was that same goal
that bid Poseidon to
forgo Eros’ aid.
Athens should have been his.
To truly twist the knife,
Medusa had to choose
him over Athena.
As she laid with sea king,
Medusa gazed into
ocean’s vibrant expanse.
Then a sea snake slithered
past her sight and she whelped.
Poseidon tended to
his lover as curled locks
coiled around her fingers.
“You need fear no serpent
when I am present, love,”
he tenderly told her.
Medusa shook her head
“no” and readied herself
to divulge deep secrets,
“I am not afraid of
them by their own accord.
I am a descendant
of Erichthonious,
half serpent king of old.
Every generation
of family’s women
await baleful curse of
serpent’s inheritance.
Cherished Euryale
and sweetest Stheno;
my most precious sisters,
bore brunt of curse’s wrath
sparing me from their pain.
Yet the son of Ares,
the treacherous Phobos,
haunts my thought to this day
with irksome notion I
am not yet a gorgon.”
Poseidon tenderly
caressed Medusa’s head.
“Fret not for kin’s failings,”
he whispered cunningly,
“Lovely as the divine,
by your beauty alone
are worthy of godhood.”
Medusa feigned rebuff
but suspected as much.
“Alas, I cannot be.
I abandoned my kin
and only by the grace
of Lady Athena
I was spared fatal end.
She sent me a white steed
that flew with the speed of
my imagination.
Somewhere along the way,
as I ensconced myself
with adequate peerage,
I lost track of the beast.”
Poseidon wordlessly
ruminated her words.
Then the mortal and god
bid each other goodbye
and exited their bliss.
Upon her returning
to Athena’s temple,
Medusa was found by
the goddess of wisdom.
Athena somberly
cast down her gaze as she
beheld how Medusa
had covered shield in cloth.
“My Lady Athena!”
Medusa worriedly
cried out in stark surprise,
“Goddess, what brings you here?”
Athena shook her head.
“Medusa, stupid child,”
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she chided her priestess,
“it is not yet too late,
but that hour draws near.
Look upon your true self
and banish vanity
or lose all you cherish.”
Medusa’s sneered reply
hissed off of a forked tongue,
“What right does a woman
who has never been loved
nor been in love a man
to cast any judgment
upon me? Oh, I see!
It must be jealousy!
You are old, bitter crone
in a maiden’s body!”
Without a single word,
Athena silenced her
by placing tip of spear
against Medusa’s lips.
Athena’s murderous
glare pierced Medusa’s soul.
The errant priestess shook
with great trepidation.
Athena turned her head
aside, raised two fingers
to her lips and whistled.
a horse’s neigh replied.
A gorgeous white stallion
Medusa recognized,
galloped up temple steps.
Athena stroked the beast’s
face, retrained attention
on her wayward priestess.
“My sweet fool, Medusa,
Spell has narrowed your mind.
Climb atop Pegasus
and ride him far away.
Flee from fame and stature.
This, your moment is now;
fate intersects for you.
Make a choice. One of two:
be the girl who listened
or monster who didn’t.”
Medusa’s mind was blank.
She could not comprehend
what was being told to her.
Yet mortal dread acted
itself through her body.
Phobos hung most heavy
upon her slim shoulders.
She abided implore
of the Lady Wisdom,
and rode majestic beast
through the city at night.
As she did so, her thoughts
were given wings and soared.
Adoration had dulled
them recently for her.
Free from the eager crowds
and absent high stature,
Medusa was herself.
She cast a glance towards port
then towards the city’s gates.
She could have ridden out
across Attica’s plains
to remake her one life
as a humbled student
who escaped excesses
of beauty and glory…
but heard the sea’s call.
She turned the horse towards the
seashore and it whinnied in protest.
Medusa dismounted
Pegasus and led him
along by his bridle.
Her mind grew dull again
and her thoughts venomous.
They snarled bitterly
at “jealous Athena”.
With every step she grew
increasingly certain
of what she told herself.
There, upon ocean’s shore,
Poseidon stood waiting;
not in human disguise
but rather as a god
in full might and splendor.
The mortal woman rushed
into open embrace.
“I see you have brought it,”
Poseidon said to her.
“Brought what?” Medusa asked.
“A sacrifice,” he said.
Medusa was aghast.
“Pegasus is my friend,”
she pleaded, “I cannot.”
“Come lover,” Poseidon
gently whispered, “for me?”
With those words, Medusa
found a knife in her hands.
It had a pearl handle
and obsidian blade,
not unlike a snake’s fang.
“Ritual sacrifice
is for divinity.
It is for you and me,”
he said as he kissed her.
Though the promise was vague,
Medusa understood
implication too well.
Her heart soared at prospect
of unequaled stature.
She could be a goddess:
beautiful, immortal,
free of family’s curse.
And all she had to do
was appease her lover.
Medusa found resolve,
approached kind Pegasus,
and slit the horse’s throat.
Poseidon watched on as
Medusa did consume
the horse’s whole body.
Her hunger for stature
opened inside of her
an unfillable whole.
