To Medusa, in Solidarity
Perhaps you too could not see the snakes when you looked in the mirror could not
Taste the venom of your mouth and skin could not
Hear the pain-bright hiss your voice had become
Perhaps you too did not know why they trembled before you why
They drew their shields and swords on you why
They called you powerful and beautiful but never wanted
Perhaps you too do not know the depths of your monstrosity why
The gods damn you to your mind why
You have scales instead of silk why
Your gaze turns men to stone
The Black Cat Next Door Shares an Ice Cream Bar With Me
A drip-drop glistens and rolls
Then suddenly lands on my pants
(Not caring that they’re new, from the thrift store)
I collect it on the tip of my finger, then —
With all the careful deference due to you—
Offer it up in hopes of your pleasure
And you —
Of the satin, blue-glazed fur and whimsical tail
Of the sweet sock feet and chest’s white starburst
Of the unfathomable, moon-bright eyes and chirp-like meows
Of the velvet purrs and whisper-soft whiskers, delicately scathing my face —
You, little empress, deign to lower your head
And extend your tiny pink tongue, sandpaper-soft on my skin
And it feels like a blessing
Kaitlyn Bancroft is a reporter with KSL.com in Salt Lake City, Utah. Previously, she’s written for The Salt Lake Tribune, The Spectrum & Daily News (part of the USA TODAY NETWORK), The Denver Post, Deseret News, and The Davis Clipper. Her poetry has been featured on Every Writer, in Illumen Magazine and in Wingless Dreamer’s 2021 Halloween anthology, Whispers of Pumpkin. Follow her work on Twitter @katbancroft or on Instagram @katbancroftreports.