The Infant Medusa

I loved Medusa when she was a child, Her rich brown tresses heaped in crispy curl Where now those locks with reptile passion whirl, By hate into dishevelled serpents coiled. I loved Medusa when her eyes were mild, Whose glances, narrowed now, perdition hurl, As her self-tangled hairs their mass unfurl, Bristling the way she turns with hissings wild.

Her mouth I kissed when curved with amorous spell, Now shaped to the unuttered curse of hell, Wide open for death’s orbs to freeze upon; Her eyes I loved ere glazed in icy stare, Ere mortals, lured into their ruthless glare, She shrivelled in her gaze to pulseless stone.