Memoirs Of Morbid Medusa Poem by Farzaneh Doosti

Fed up with fuming faces around me,
Fed up with petty poets' peculiarity,
I was even fed up with you
When I sat there in Cafe Art
Talking about Derrida, Nora, Wilde, and Barthes
With that blazing snail who crawled in my throat
Crawled throughout that burning boat
But you avoided my eyes;
You were absorbed to the cries
Of Beheaded Medusa passing by
With a dagger in her back - Your dagger it was,
Well-decorated with tasty lines, bitter sighs, broken aces -
And you grew somber and somber
As she crossed our coffee table.
So I took a glance at your little fins, wide jaws, white eyes
I wasn’t a fisherwoman; I just went for pearls and corals
Of which you had no ideas.

My throat burned with remorse
- for the word never taken
And the snail on your Loral hair
- Shell broken.
You were in that blazing boat
Screamed and Staggered
With a beheaded maiden daggered,
Leaving me behind on a coral land.

Dozing on this remote island
In the heart of my luring band
I’ve grown serpents on my head
Who hiss me kiss me consumingly
Now and then I gaze at the ocean
Now full of stony statues
All resembling of you
Unparticular Apollo!