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The Legacy
Ms. Lennan Shares Poetry for February 19th

In the Pink
Impossible grave robbers
my family all
to shovel and dig in the dark fog
of Night
we drew you from the casket
time and time again
I understand the feelings of Mary
Shelley—bolts, screws loose, and jolts
a mad science to think
there was ever a cure at all
to rival the dead from God
this would take lonely work
for the angry mobs
had long left town
fear of the scurvy curse
as the boat sailed in a bottle
never going anywhere
never hearing the foghorn blow
floating up
sinking down, to and fro
rocking on long legs
of whiskey waves
crashing at last
the shores of electric shock
this time
the therapy would take
there are no mobs
lost in fog
forgotten road
this time, this time
the treatment would take
this we make
our own Frankenstein, over and over
he turned more green
impossible stolen heads
the complexion will never be
in the pink to think it could have been
so different
Horatio said to Hamlet
the play goes on and on   
karen lennan