by Cara Bovaird
Dewy crags beneath my feet become
Medusa’s petrified victims,
And hint at the algid waters below.
I leap, but the fear lasts only a second.
Immersed, surrounded and
Numbed.
She hisses beneath me, and her
Emerald tresses caress my feet.
The icy womb of the serpentine sea cradles me.
She coaxes me deeper, yet
My mortal frame will not
Unleash me.
It is my sempiternal soul
That will remain below with the
Ophidian Goddess.
Violent splashes rise from the waves
As my body tries to emerge.
Sunlight is visible yet out of reach,
I grasp towards the surface.
But the serpent coils itself around an ankle
And at once the sunlight disappears.
Medusa, termagant, virago,
Witch.
Cara Bovaird is a Masters student studying English literature in Coleraine, Ireland. She spends a lot of time by the sea, both reading and writing poetry. October is her favourite month, and Fall is her favourite season of the year. On twitter @Cara_Bovaird. On Instagram @carabovairdx.
