The Love of Godzilla

by Dena Rash Guzman

Shanghai, China
Monday, October 8, 2007

You are there. I hear the fear,
loud as anything. I hear the sirens,
breaking glass, concrete smacking, screams.

Rain blusters out the windows,
collides and dampens
the pavement of endeavor.

I can’t send you poisoned letters,
my reptilian. I love you with the weight
of the entire sum of all that is unrequited and fateful.

I can’t be cruel to, nor frightened of you, my Godzilla.
We’ve sent up enough
pluming skulls and bones, and you are my sorrow,

my shame of human intervention
into elemental sense, being.

Nothing ever is as it was, but 21 autumnal night floors
below, I see spaces made for your steps and if you tread gingerly

around my people, these beautifully imperfect beings,

I will wait here for you to come to me,
to lean gingerly,

and I will touch your heart through the window.