FRANKENSTEIN'S MONSTER

by Dave Migman

convulsing on the great sweep of decimated earth
animal figures wrestle in the dirt like eels
around the greased bones of consummation
form the torn fodder of a race gone mad

anger pulses in me like a star propelled
towards ‘conclusion’

So listen:
the machine hisses in our ears
we kneel in homage
pour black desire into its gaping wound

and the lie speaks of
pride, freedom, individuality
but listen closer
between each murderous breath

laughter