To Medusa
Gorgon, my Gorgon
I gaze on that sweetest face.
Stone, my own face turns.
O Medusa, dear,
Let us talk a while here,
Make our wedding plans.
Shall it be had here,
Or closer to your own Greece,
Under olive trees?
Who should we invite?
Who can stand to see your grace?
Who can witness love?
My love, they will bide
While we promise each other
Our entire life.
“I do, I, I do.”
I say it with gleeful pride.
And she says it too.
And I raise her veil.
I gaze into her eyes; and
There I stand today.
Matthew B. Rose
