Connie Deanovich

Frankenstein naps on a golden bed
covered by a floral quilt
handstitched as he is handstitched

He dreams of making a gigantic sandwich
the tense moment of triumph coming when finally
he gets both hands to work at once

He dreams of picnicking in a glistening meadow
recently cleaned by a biology class
dreams of riding there on top a glistening Harley

He sees himself this way or else
prone in black leather
glamorously handcuffed inside his electric dungeon

Tomorrow he'll rise arms first from his golden bed
trying to piece together the images of his dreams
into an uncontestable memory

When he stumbles toward you
will you slowly teach him your name
Or will you quickly distribute fire?

-- Connie Deanovich, "Frankenstein," in Jim Elledge and Susan Swartwout, eds., Real Things: An Anthology of Popular Culture in American Poetry (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1999), 27.