Perseus and Medusa perched on boulders
watch the evening news. Blue TV light touches them in a perfectly dark cave.
Trickling water just audible, punctuated by nearer bouncy sound of water in a
struck steel bowl.
PERSEUS: Mary, tell me what he looks like.
MEDUSA: Gaunt. Greek I think. Straight teeth…
PRESENTER: …inside the church had earlier chanted slogans against Egypt’s Islamist President—
PERSEUS: —they’re playing footage.
PERSEUS: Who’s bombing who.
MEDUSA: Oh stop. You know it’s not real.
PERSEUS: I don’t know that. You stone him.
MEDUSA: How could I. He’d have to see me…
PRESENTER: …attacked mourners as they exited the cathedral, pelting them with rocks and petrol bombs. The Christians—
PERSEUS: How do you do it.
MEDUSA: How. Oh.
PERSEUS: That’s what I’ve wondered.
MEDUSA: Ever wonder if the light’s still on in the fridge after you close it.
MEDUSA: Well. You know Jasper Johns. The numbers.
PERSEUS: You have any non-visual metaphors.
MEDUSA: Here, take this. (she folds his hand around a piece of charcoal)
MEDUSA: It’s charcoal. I want you to make a self-portrait on the wall to your left.
PERSEUS: But I can’t see.
MEDUSA: That’s the point.
PERSEUS: I don’t know how to draw.
Medusa takes his hand, starts him off. Perseus continues unaided.
PRESENTER: …said a fire had started in a building next to the Cathedral, but the blaze had since been extinguished. In Kabul twenty-six…
MEDUSA: Ah, you see. You’ve done it. No likeness of Perseus, but Perseus himself. Wonderful.