THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN II

The Professor, a bachelor all his married life,

Closed Mary Shelley's book and proclaimed to the class

That Frankenstein, like all of Western lit, lacks

A goddess. He looked around the room,

Assembling in his mind the pieces:

Maria's apple ass, Prue's perfect breasts,

Together with What's-her-name's (on the beach

Last summer) trim foot, Julia's toe, Corrina's

Little finger. Year by year, since 25, he had collected.

50 now, now if he could only find the right lips,

He would hoist the amalgam into the electricity

Of his imagination and know what,

Completely satisfactory, he could, in full voice,

Praise.