Cake Godzilla

To mark the year
you turned from two to three
we made a cake
on which Godzilla was seen
hovering high
above a Tokyo scene.

Atomic breath
and flames rained down
upon the denizens
of this sugary town.

And Godzilla, large and green
grinned because just he had seen
the chocolate cake that lay below
the city’s tunnels that only darkness knows.

But our monster’s life was in your hands
and with a song, a candle and a wish
you claimed his head and placed it in your dish.
His green neck sat in the cold.
On top of ice cream it slowly rolled
as green dye freely flowed
from head to food, his fate was screwed.

It was true that Mothra had foretold
of this ghastly fructose apocalypse
and the terminal remains of frosting and crumbs
smashed and spread with your fingers and thumbs.
Only she could end the candy Kaiju’s reign,
delaying terror with her trembling wing.

A peaceful moment was felt by all
until we sliced into the central square
and began to disassemble every window and wall.
No home or office was left whole,
we cut the cake and ate till full.

At evening’s end, Mothra surveyed the debris
one year, two years and now three
your little cheeks, still soft, find their home upon her chest,
and lashes flutter, the signal of quieting breath.
Finally, yes, comes rest.