The Bride of Frankenstein

“I thought with a sensation of madness
on my promise of creating another like to him,
and trembling with passion, tore to pieces the thing
on which I was engaged.”

        Frankenstein, Chapter XX



He brought me to life beneath delicate hands.
I who was nothing, dust in darkness.  
Where did my wandering thoughts reside
before this convoluted brain?  
Where did my pulse throb before this blood?  
My Maker, my God.  Anguish
floods his beautiful eyes.  His pale skin
mirrors my veins, hot breath tickles my neck
to lust.  What voices, what songs did I hear
with what sensitive ears?
Whose firm mouth and tongue did I hold
in mine?  Where in the earth did I taste
apples and wine?  He weeps.  Behind him
at the casement a daemon grins.  
Wind and birds and sea.  A face
like grave worms.   Where did my limbs
learn love, in what silent cave?  
From what ocean can memories coalesce
into figures of sense, webs of consciousness
before he tears my flesh from new made bone?