her avid pony eyes under straggly darting brows:
this look of hers petrifies blossoms, the sky to stone,
lapis l'azur. in broadband vision, what's red
becomes reefs, corals, circled by fishy waiters,
she can't pay, it's not the first time, she needs
to get out of here, behind her a scuffle,
drinkers cast down their eyes, look into glasses.
when a waiter drags her over by the hair
she laughs, almost topples, knows no measure.
toxically fortified her raised arm flails about,
the bangles and bracelets jangling like keys -
how she starts screaming, how can it be
that we all seem to have totally forgotten
that from the neck of medusa, slain by perseus,
springs forth, among other things, a boy foal
who brings lightning, and thunder too, to zeus
who - go read your hesiod, you boneheads! -
was previously lacking these attributes of power.
taken from: Monika Rinck, to refrain from embracing
trans. Nicholas Grindell (Providence RI: Burning Deck, 2011)