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To My Creature

By Annika Gangopadhyay



after Mary Shelley

tell me. does the spark of life pulse in you,

like a heartbeat?

is a replica capable of rhythm–unhinged

flesh, swinging by a bolt? the story begins

with you at my feet: i the victor

on my knees and you the corpse,

invigorated– let me measure the fiber

putrid on brown bones, the liver borrowed

and blackened in my arms. i awaken ember-eyed,

unafraid with shock–this is not birth, creature

dearest, but victory. breathe through

your chemical lungs as i melt the iceberg–

i the Prometheus no mortals could touch,

you the electricity– leave me on the

horizon, ablaze with contemplation,

below me

you creature in bliss.

follow the chemist’s

flame and tell me what it is to live as less

than mortal–does it scorch, like a synapse

undead?


 


Annika Gangopadhyay is an emerging writer from the San Francisco Bay Area. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Ligeia Magazine, Élan,The Incandescent Review, the borderline, and Blue Marble Review. When she's not writing, she enjoys performing music and reading art criticism.

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