The Creature from the Haunted Sea Attempts to Buy a Bath

The hardboiled egg-like eyes
are putting off the salesman.
Like a crap Doctor Who special effect
from the '60s, they linger
in the air, unable to break this ice.
Freestanding or cast iron? A mini
maelstrom from a whirlpool bath
might be just the thing. Massage
shaggy fur green like weeks-old spinach.
Untangle itself from a knotted lifestyle.
It mumbles but all the salesman
can think of are the eyes.
The terrible eyes made by a god
on a budget. A hurricane of laughter
is enough to make it stumble out of the store,
its mop-like movement almost
making a browsing elderly couple
drown from curiosity. The watching
salespeople are aiming for YouTube glory.
Not to worry - the people filming outside
will make it a TikTok star, make it remember
the treasure it hoards and everything
that will make it slip off its suit
and learn to be a man again.

Victor Frankenstein's Monster at the Psychiatrist's

Its forehead creases like an ECG
when it thinks of mortgages
and the school run. Missile bolts
on the verge of launching.
Peppermint skin going Green Giant.

And what would you like to do?
says a voice calming as a breeze,
as a familiar cliché. Its white picket
fence vowels and syllables
drags the creature back to the sofa.

Office work. The delight of monotony.
Its smile almost collapses its face
like an earthquake crack. Yes
to data entry. Yes to the spreadsheet
dance. Yes to water cooler gossip.

It thanks the psychiatrist, eyes
slowly glowing green like a photocopier laser.
Outside, the streetlights are dimming
out of curiosity and the foxes
are sheathed in their hiding places.

About the Author

Christian Ward is a United Kingdom-based writer who has recently appeared in Red Ogre Review, Tipton Poetry Journal, Ginosko Literary Journal, Dreich, Uppagus, A Thin Slice of Anxiety and the BlueHouse Journal.