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,”

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.