The house is an endless maze,
dark corridors leading up
and back to shadowed stairs.
Each room magnificent
if somewhat shabby.
Wandering the corridors endlessly,
hoping for a break in the monotony
of silence and dim dust laden air.
Banners of laughter drift,
bringing relief from isolation
Transition to a light filled space
is sudden and humid air replaces
the mustiness of the corridors.
Colors are sharp, magnified
to painful liquid clarity.
The atrium is filled with plants,
with windows and walls
stacked to incredible heights.
There are graceful people
attending a garden party.
Laughter ruffling the damp air,
it is obvious that the party
has reached that wonderful
giddy stage of abandonment
to pleasures of the senses.
The expanse of grass
stretching from the atrium
is bordered with a fine strand
of dry white sand, in turn
bordered by a steely grey bay.
In the distance, a frothing disturbance
mirrors the roiling clouds overhead.
The ships are clearly in jeoporady.
Even from the atrium, it is obvious
that they will never make port.
Scrambling up a stairway
to escape inevitable catastrophe,
I almost trip over a small blue dog
whose coat is made of flower petals.
It is quietly munching a head of lilacs.
A voice sails over the party
ìThe dog is almost out of lilacs.î
The hostess bellows back,
ìBe a dear, wonít you,
and get him some orchids.î
The disturbance in the bay resolves.
The monstrous form of godzilla
wades closer through the surf.
The party moves out of the house
littering the grass with empty cups.
Meanwhile...
a dragon winks one great green eye
and his claw taps aginst the column
that tethers him to the coil
of rooms and dusty staircases,
the only creature of sun in the atrium.
The revellers are immersed
in their sensuous pleasures.
They seem oblivious
to shouts crashing through the air.
Or they are indifferent.
Crashing, groaning, the boats are
riven,
trash tossed on green waves.
Godzilla heaves through the surf,
headed for shore,for the revellers,
and for the little dog, too.
Breath gasping through stiff lungs,
unused to the stress of exertion,
copper taste of blood
aching stitch of pain sears
and bucks through flabby muscle.
Great tears through white sand
show godzillaís passage.
A quick glance through pain red eyes
down to the coil of the dark mansion.
The monster is among the revellers.
I touch the top of the hill.
There is a column with snakes,
knotted and twisted around the base.
Pulling one snake out by the tail,
the others come undone.
The dragon is released,
and grows, breaking the shell
of the old mansion, birthing into battle
with an unequalled monster.
The party and the dog are forgotten.
The battle is moving up the hill.
Frantically looking for safety,
I notice the column is hollow.
It looks like it would withstand
the attack of any monster.
Cautiously, I feel my way in.
The snake, forgotten in my hand,
twists itself around my wrist.
Perhaps i will be able to observe
the end of the battle from above.
It takes a long tome to get to the
top.
My shoulders are scratched
from the rough wall of the column,
my knees ache with exertion,
my breath is short from the close air.
Breaking through, breathing deeply,
I take in my surroundings.
There are windows stacked high.
The snake, forgotten around my wrist,
sinks long fangs into the column.
There is the sound of laughter.
I look past my green scaled claw
and wink at the small blue dog
that is munching a bouquet of daffodils
at the bottom of a staircase.