Trigger warnings: References to sexual violence, suicidal ideation
Click "Watch on YouTube" on the video below to listen to the full playlist.
My collection, Head of a Gorgon, is a narrative in persona poems that reimagines the myth of Medusa — referred to in my collection simply as M — transporting this ancient tale of sexual violence into contemporary times and examining it through a survivor-centric, feminist lens. This persona work draws from the many versions of the myth as well as personal experience and the experiences of some close to me.
Medusa, to me, embodies the concept of “blaming the victim.” In most versions of the myth about her, she is raped by Poseidon (referred to in my collection as P), yet she alone is punished for what took place on Athena’s altar.
Because the original myth of M begins in her adulthood, I saw a unique opportunity to build out a childhood for her that not only sets the reader up to understand the different retellings of the original myth in a new way but also creates a contemporary framework that is reflective of what we know to be one of many tragic truths about sexual assault: being sexually assaulted at a young age puts survivors at a higher risk for being victimized again in the future. M’s experiences in Head of a Gorgon comes to reflect both childhood and adult survival and explores how and where those experiences overlap and diverge.
When creating a playlist for my book, I decided to take a persona approach to it as well, having each poem look into a sort of musical mirror. What song echoed or spoke to what I was exploring in each particular poem? What song would be each poem’s doppelganger?
By the end of this exercise, I ended up with a rather epic playlist of 37 songs, which I distilled down to the following 14 songs that you may not have heard before or may not have thought about for a while — mostly by female artists I especially admire, all by artists who have captured my imagination at some point along this little journey M and I have been on. I’ve included links to all the songs lyrics as well as to the specific poems each song mirrors as well, along with any live links to my texts when available (though all these titles can be found in the full collection, available through Vegetarian Alcoholic Press).
“The Mission” — Puscifer
(The mirror of the first “Your Captain Speaking” poem in Head of a Gorgon)
The captain figure in Head of a Gorgon makes three appearances, the first of which is, in my opinion, the most ominous. And Puscifer’s “The Mission” — with its heavy, skulking beats in the beginning; Maynard James Keenan’s low, dark refrain; and lyrical embrace of the cold realities of human existence — is most definitely ominous. Both song and poem will have you questioning whether it wasn’t just best to have remained the sparkle in your parents’ eyes — not that any of us ever have that choice.
“Beautiful Secrets” — Sarah Blasko
(The mirror of “Sex Ed” in Head of a Gorgon)
Anyone who’s ever had a secret beyond the level of where you hid the candy so your younger sibling couldn’t eat it first will relate to ceaselessly wondering whether others have somehow seen through you or found you out. This feeling is explored in my poem and Blasko’s song, and if this poem were ever made into a video, I imagine “Beautiful Secrets’” haunting melody would be playing in the background.
“Cough Syrup” — Young the Giant
(The mirror of “Cheer” in Head of a Gorgon)
Both song and poem are about wanting to run away, about imagining with all one’s heart a place the pain of life cannot reach us — and about what we use as substitutes to mask our pain when we realize that place we dream of simply does not and cannot exist.
“Strange & Beautiful” — Aqualung
(The mirror of “M & P’s Exchange, IV: P’s Appeal” in Head of a Gorgon)
We hear from P, one of the male speakers in the book, as part of a dialogue between him and M wherein he, having set his sights upon M, does his best to convince her that consummating their relationship is not only inevitable but necessary. The music of the poem, its rhyming and assonance, intends to be entrancing, and this reminded me of the “spell” Matthew Nicholas Hales sings about putting the beloved under once that person has caught his speaker’s eye. The leap both the poem and the song make from male want to his willingness to obtain his desires through whatever means make possession possible raises important questions about power dynamics in romantic relationships — including relationships that may only exist in a male’s imagination.
“Carnival” — Tori Amos
(The mirror of “M & P’s Exchange, V: M’s Lesson at the Ranch” in Head of a Gorgon)
One of the central tensions present in the exchange between M and P is the line, often blurred, between love and sex. This tension is present as well in “Carnival,” wherein we see a character charmed by the summer season and her own hope for finding and preserving a certain vision of love, only to reach the 3-minute mark of the song, where both melodic and lyrical tones change to those of apprehension and defense, of finally recognizing the danger inherent in certain men.
“Fell on Black Days” — Soundgarden
(The mirror of “Transfiguration of Medusa” in Head of a Gorgon)
“Transfiguration of Medusa,” as the title indicates, is the moment in Head of a Gorgon where a transformation for M — mentally, physically, and even spiritually — takes place. To me, this sort of crossing beyond a threshold irrevocably from what one was into what one has become can also be seen in the duality reflected in the lyrics of “Fell on Black Days” and how, often, the things we try hardest to avoid becoming are the things we one day realize we somehow are.
“This Place Is a Prison” — The Postal Service
(The mirror of the third “Your Captain Speaking” poem in Head of a Gorgon)
Less authoritative and more questioning than the earlier two iterations titled “Your Captain Speaking,” the third version pairs well with the painful existential awarenesses of “This Place Is a Prison” along with the song’s desperate questioning at the end.
“Light Switch” — Jaime Wyatt
(The mirror of “Relics” in Head of a Gorgon)
“Relics” finds M at her most gorgon-y, petrifying prospective suitors and contemplating the enemies evading her. “Light Switch” similarly contemplates an enemy — in this case, a former lover — and reaches a similar conclusion in the chorus as the poem reaches at its end: Solitude in the name of self-preservation will become one’s only means of existence after long enough — and happens before one even realizes.
“Mad World” — Gary Jules & Michael Andrews
(The mirror of “Note From the Nadir” in Head of a Gorgon)
No disrespect at all to Tears for Fears, a great band and the writers of “Mad World.” But the cover by Gary Jules and Michael Andrews, which you may recognize from Donnie Darko, is a far more haunting rendition for this listener. So when M reaches rock bottom in “Note From the Nadir” and sees only one solution for ending her pain, this particular version of “Mad World” is a closer reflection of the conclusion she’s reached.
“Dead Things” — Emiliana Torrini
(The mirror of “Reinvention Sequence, I: Institutions” in Head of a Gorgon)
Much like my 14-part “Reinvention Sequence,” “Dead Things” features a speaker in dialogue with another version of the self, complete with the references to one’s reflection that appear in both. The acceptance of the fact that life means we will all be exposed to some form of trauma along the way also especially resonates at this point in Head of a Gorgon as M wakes up once more in the body she’d hoped to abandon permanently.
“Roads” — Portishead
(The mirror of “Reinvention Sequence, VI: Refraction” in Head of a Gorgon)
This part of “Reinvention Sequence” focuses on vision — what we see, how we see, how that sight fails us, and where that sight leads (or misleads) us. From its first line, “Roads” also meditates on the concept of seeing, then moves on to acknowledge the lost and lonely feelings that come part and parcel with being the only one who “sees” the truth of a thing.
“Sing” — Dresden Dolls
(The mirror of “Reinvention Sequence, X: Tongue-Tied” in Head of a Gorgon)
So much of sexual abuse and assault survivors’ experience revolves around others’ enforcing and reinforcing their silence. In “Tongue-Tied,” M reaches the point where she’s ready to speak out about all she’s survived but fears she may fumble for words if she tries saying it out loud, choosing instead to share her story by writing it down. M’s inner voice assures her that writing, too, is a form of song — even if the subject matter is painful. The lyrics to “Sing,” which Amanda Palmer wrote as half of the Dresden Dolls, asks everyone to engage in the power of voicing their stories — even if, as the last line of the song prophesizes, the day some of us are finally ready to do so may be a bit down the line.
“Apres Moi” — Regina Spektor
(The mirror of “Reinvention Sequence, XII: Water Shed” in Head of a Gorgon)
Both “Water Shed” and “Apres Moi” consider what can and cannot be broken in each of us as well as what might still be reclaimed — whether by ourselves or by others like us who have been held silent, held down, and held back for too long.
“Control” — Poe
(The mirror of “Questions to a Snake” in Head of a Gorgon)
In “Questions to a Snake” in Head of a Gorgon as well as in “Control” — from Poe’s album Haunted, which pairs with her brother Mark Z. Danielewski’s book House of Leaves — we’re dealing with speakers who are at long last directly confronting their abusers — and, in doing so, reclaiming a great deal of the power their abusers had robbed them of.
“Hide and Seek” — Imogen Heap
(The mirror of “Mumfish” in Head of a Gorgon)
As its title implies, there’s a reflecting back on childhood in “Hide and Seek,” as there is in “Mumfish” — and it’s definitely not pretty in either case. Both acknowledge scars from the past as well as the excuses made by or imagined from the women who had control over these young speakers’ lives at one point — and therefore were complicit in these children’s painful fates. I also appreciate the simple, quiet exit of this song as an exit to this playlist as a whole.
Raegen Pietrucha writes, edits, and consults creatively and professionally. Her chapbook, An Animal I Can't Name, won the 2015 Two of Cups Press competition; her debut poetry collection, Head of a Gorgon, is forthcoming with Vegetarian Alcoholic Press in May; and she has a memoir in progress. She received her MFA from Bowling Green State University, where she was an assistant editor for Mid-American Review. Her work has been published in Cimarron Review, Puerto del Sol, and other journals. Connect with her at raegenmp.wordpress.com and on Twitter @freeradicalrp.