Poem

2.
The standard Frankenstein wedged approx.
Against a big white mountain. Dizzy, my ass.
Outer extremities frozen up whilst Emily bleeds.
Look into thy book and fall asleep. Only half-
Kidding, he removes the sheath and sallies.
Victor, think of the babies. (I’ve been here before.)
Your penalty is still your wobbly gait.
Culpability will not be assessed until the ghost
-ed pulldown menu rematerializes.
Can I be any clearer: marry me.
This is not a love poem, nor a note, nary
a trace. Shelley is exploding all over me.
Someone hand a tissue. Powerful feelings,
&c. Everyone at the table was struck silent.