The Daughter of Frankenstein Hopes Her New Lover Doesn’t Discover Her Bolts
Crossing thick fingers in a charming
show of humanity and faith for someone
so…so created, she squeezes her eyelids
shut and wonders if she should pray.
This new lover, he doesn’t seem
to be the sort who’d try to turn them
lefty-loosey (guys have tried this before;
it is excruciatingly painful.) Oh well,
she thinks, as she strokes his “natural”
hair, if he’s like all the rest, I can just
crush his head like a cantaloupe. I’ve
got no fear of torches anymore
and Dad could probably use some company
up there in that dark tower.