Books - Edward Bruce Bynum, Ph.D., ABPP

The great dark smashes out,
the claws come first, then the wings.
The whole sky smokes and belches,

the first cry imprisions all sound.
Half lizard, half bird, the breath is immolation,
the thighs the armour of hell.

It looks out over carcasses in a stagnant sea.
It smells sulphureous, eats refuse,
leaks a thin and radioactive gas into the swollen sun

and atmosphere. Islanders watch it coming.
It steps over beach trees, over huts,
inland waters. It makes for the highway

where the trucks strut, telephone lines
slice the air. All Tokyo braces for the attack.
Americans have hatched Hiroshima again

in the cinematic skull of anxious Japanese.
The beast gets out, swims to the U.N. where
he is met by Mothra and Rodan.

The heavens are at war with rockets,
volcanos, flying saucers that flaunt
unspeakable weapons sucking the brains

out through the eyes and warping the fingers into stone.
Godzilla smiles, pleased with himself.
Then he multiplies his body like a cancerous amoeba.

He's in London, in Madras, in Beijing
and the hills of Accra. He's in Delhi,
in Kansas, in the backyard of your neighbor.

He's in your basement, in your kitchen,
in your bedroom closet behind the shoes.
And when you dream he creeps

into your lungs, into your bloodstream,
into your genitals and brain. Then he
steps inside your intuition, catches you and clings.