by Donny Winter
On nights lit by laptop light,
word-documents were paper shields
swallowing me, protection from bullies at school.
Tokusatsu sinews glued my bones together,
the wreckage of the math-class monster’s rampage.
For years, my Godzilla-fingers plodded across lettered cities,
key-clicks became crowd-roars when I saved Tokyo—and finally
they noticed me and gave me Mothra-wings.
I found ways to drive them away; the beasts always fled—
those that remained were the monsters in my head.
Today, sculpted stories are rubber suits I wear as
I’m an anomalous monster in an angst-filled city,
a fierce warrior on paper because I was always bigger in Tokyo.
(c) Donny Winter
Alien Buddha Press, Kaiju Galaxy
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