Return of The Bride of Frankenstein



You can’t keep a good woman down.
Once you conceive of me, I live
there in the mists of your blood.
My electric shock hair, my deathwhite
foundation mask, my mascara
and laboratory screams!
Believe it or not, I wake with no name
on my lips.  Like the Grateful
Dead, I am cobbled of powerful parts.
I can dance all night.
My flashlight eyes carve images
in the thickest woods.  I won’t stay
dead.  Again and again I rise
from this filthy slab.  Wearing white
lace I rise in your visions, my black
nails grown long.  This is nothing
but a black and white world.
Wolves howl in moonlight, mountains
glow in flame.  All the villagers
remember your face, cross themselves
and pray.  They have forgotten which
language they speak.  All they can do
is brew beer and stir their thick, strong
soup.  In the barns, stolid horses
stamp and tremble, milk cows groan. 
Bats swirl in a black cyclone of fear.
What terrible beauty, with a voice like
glass!  I have signed no contract,
plighted no troth.  I guarantee nothing.  
I won’t stay dead.  I will not do
what you say.  Tonight
I stride across the earth, fists filled with rain.