Whose Heart Should He Be Given?

As Mary Shelley glanced at the drunk Percy, snoring
Blissfully away in his blind stupor,
She wondered: should she give her demented Creature
That elusive thing called a heart?

Would Percy ever guess on whom this
Creature had been modeled,
Even as he helped her to revise her tale?

Why was Percy making her Creature
More savage than she’d first conceived of him?
Was this Percy’s indirect way of confessing his guilt?
His way of admitting to her his wild excesses,
That sometimes chipped away at the rough edges of their
Barely held together, ever-shifting life?

Was this all the acknowledgement
Of wrongdoing she was ever going to get from Percy?
In the form of a deformed Creature
Brought into existence by the burst of electrical currents
In her own shocked and confused brain?