Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Frankenstein’s Bride

he is in me
they are in me
hands machines

copper wire threads up my uterus

they peel back the dermis
peel back the fascia the muscle staple the layers
under my breasts to hold them in place

my grandfather’s tractor drags rotating disks
plows my liver my bladder

they shoot rays into me
they picture my bones irradiate my blood

myself on the screens above
white hieroglyphs on blue paper
I shudder in pixels

I am shorn the razors are my warm metal friends
my legs
my cunt my upper lip

they raise my ovaries with chopsticks
white as sleeping faces they carve smiles into
slick pale viscera

two thousand
dead fireflies electrified they blow on my womb
foul rat breath try to start a fire

they have lost something here
they will find him the intern has disappeared
sculptors of blood and bile and circuits they will carve him out of me

under my tongue they sew a socket
AC/DC flows down my collar bones
my vertebra
I cough a ghost’s name
her name they ask my husband to come in
and hold me down

2 comments:

Nick said...

Thanks for posting this.

Christine said...

Thanks, Nick.