“By the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs” 

‘Frankenstein’ Shelley, M (1818)

Before my eyes open, I have lived a whole life; 

loved and been forgiven, found wanting and undone. 

To my new bed I haul these emotions,

how am I all this and yet newly made? 

My eyes see a flicker and register a light 

but the candle offers no warmth.

My naked flesh is patch-worked 

like my memories, tattoo-stitched. 

How can I reach out and tell you this 

when my tongue is so badly broken? 

I struggle, gurgle, strangle a reply; 

please come to my aid. 

Your hand puts up a barrier 

you turn away and leave me here 

battling for breath, like a new-born, 

strangled by the cord that gave them life.