I lay awake at night
Watching the light of the moon
Cast shadows across my room.
I cannot sleep, for I am kept awake
In fear of that man called Frankenstein.
No, I do not speak of the creation
With stitches in his neck.
I speak of his creator, Victor,
For he is a man of actions
Far more scary and more real:
Unsafe medical practice.
This college drop-out is not a doctor,
For he blindly refused his professors’ advice
(entitled hubris was his vice).
Incestuous and prideful,
This is the man I fear
For while walking corpses are not real,
Entitled rich white men roam free.
Categories: creative, Emily mattison, oct. 26, vol 25