You might write a poem now
Proselytizing the omen of my hair
Twining in the wind,
Telling the world my smile
Froze you in your tracks.

Later you might paint Medusa
Over these features
Telling the world you should have
Recognized the signs and looked at me only in
Reflection and retrospect.

You might write a poem now
Of my far away gaze in the glass
While I brush, paint, and upholster to
Feed your expectations
You love to see me dolled up.

Later, you might re-write me as Narcissus.

You might write a poem now
Extolling me as your Athena
Because those martial arts make me
Sexy and you imagine me kneeling at your
Feet.

Later, you might be disagreeably
Surprised to find these arts take
Time and focus you can’t redirect and fair warning there’s a big
Difference between me and that
TV princess in a plastic chest plate you imagine
Obediently placing herself beneath you.

I might write a poem about how you poured through my
Locks as a shower of gold and you tasted my surrender.

Later I might find, my Zeus, that the lock you
Ignored was there for a reason and this flamboyant
Insinuation past inconvenient limits is a
Pattern with you.

I might write a poem now
Bunkering built up fears against the possibility that
You might write a poem later: our roots and branches
Entwined through time as we age peacefully, becoming ourselves
Baucis and Philemon.