Godzilla, Silhouette Against City
Oh, Ghidorah
I can taste your sweaty palms from here.
Godzilla means heart-
breaker in Japanese but you’ve never believed me.
And though you become
a broken tide swelling
onto my chest
my lips and though
we begin the hot-bodied things
you whistle,
can we take this slow?
But already
my atomic heart has blown
the walls loose and I laugh,
I’ve never been hurt before.
You sort the lamplight into pants and socks, a tsunami wall,
your face, a sluice gate.
Before my very eyes
you are losing your zephyr —
no longer the fearsome Ghidorah,
just a little man
in a costume stamping your bat wings.
Down the stairs I hum
the song of Tokyo burning
a tune
that will slink back to you
each time you say,
I don't want
to be hurt
again
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