Sunday, 27 September 2009

Mary Shelleys Monster

This is a poem about the night that Mary Shelley dreamt of the Frankensteins Monster.

She spawned the monster in a dream,
In a frenzy of shame and desire,
Caught between the wolf and lamb,
In that year without a summer,
Breathing her life into its bones,
At midnight whilst her husband slept,
Conceiving in the womb of her mind,
The phantasm of her unrequited desire,
That shuffled forth from the darkness,
As the abortion of all her passions.

Oh this creature, this fallen angel,
Formed from his forbidden flesh,
With a careless caress and a stolen sigh,
Born to mock what should have been,
A stillborn love, expelled from a dream,
Until shuddering she turns away,
Repulsed by this thing she has borne,
In the corners of her consciousness,
Where a wife becomes a whore,
Wet for this death, to which she gave life.

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