Accidental Prayer

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ACCIDENTAL PRAYER 


“Come, Victor, with feelings of peace and gentleness that will heal, instead of festering, the

wounds of our minds.” — Alphonse Frankenstein to his son, Victor 


Yes—Come, Victor, recipient even of petitions

misaddressed to lesser makers, hasten 

home to us. Exhume our bloated bodies  

from the filth in which we fester. Dust 

off our femurs and phalanges, our metatarsals

then our metanarratives of how it all fits 

together. Supposedly you’ve come across

the secret to revive again the lifeless 

matter. What’s the matter? Our will is fractured

in this laboratory light. Set it right.



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