Medusa: In the Modern Era

Buried, no more,

In the pages of Greece.

Roam I, on the road,

Of this day and age.

Path, painted in pitch-black.

Can't smell a feminine glow,

Yet a pungent perspire,

Camouflaged in every bush.

No vibes of vigilance,

For this forlorn woman.

Stroll with no stress,

Unlike a typical woman does.

Legs won't wheel,

Despite encountering Poseidon.

If whistles be his,

Let my snaked hair hiss.

In case of a vitriol attack,

Be it my venom attack,

To fence the femininity,

From the fiend.

Let his lust turn rust.

Even Perseus can't persuade,

If dares to slay,

Be him the prey.

A lewd, be lowered,

To a frozen rock,

For a face-to-face meeting.

Shall my fury,

Make the alpha male bury.

May the SOS app icon of mine be,

Not Save Our Souls,

Rather be,

Snake Or Stone,

A do-or-die puzzle.

Neither a pepper spray,

Nor a pen knife,

I do carry,

Unlike these contemporaries.

Merely a hysterical woman I am,

Rewriting history,

Aren’t I?

-S.K.Meenamani