Godzilla reheats leftovers in Shinjuku’s steaming crater
   as he regrets single gay dad life: nuclear breath and no co-parental rights
   Minilla’s lunchbox is glowing again, Zilla Junior is mutating in therapy

​

he texts don’t forget parent-teacher night,
   and Godzilla groans, spine flushing blue with existential fatigue
   the mother? absent. possibly a metaphor
   possibly Mothra — definitely a plot device

 

he used to blame Mothra — too radiant, too ethereal
   always fluttering off mid-argument to gentrify another planet
   but let’s be honest: she’s more goddess than girlfriend
   and co-parenting with a reincarnated silk cocoon is hell

 

there was also that summer on monster island:
   a boy love triangle with Rodan and Biollante
   Rodan, all smolder and feathers and don’t catch feelings
   Biollante, plant-based and soft-spoken, grew roses in her bed
   Godzilla once woke up with vines around his thighs
   and a love poem carved with a pterodactyl bone into a petrified tree

 

King Ghidorah was the mistake
   three heads, no emotional regulation
   the left one refused to say i love you,
   the middle one sent memes and nudes,
   the right one ghosted him mid-egg fertilization

 

now Minilla wants to know: who’s my real dad?
   Junior wants to know: who am i if i wasn’t wanted?
   Godzilla stares into the ocean like a queer Hamlet with scales
   asks the surf: am i a father or a franchise?

 

at dinner, they all sit on opposite ends of the Kaiju-size table
   no one talks about the egg in the fridge glowing suspiciously
   Mothra texts: congrats <3, Biollante sends poisonous spores

 

Godzilla logs into monstergrindr for the first time since 1984
   his bio: “single dad / radioactive / open to poly
   if you respect boundaries / femmonstrous preferred”

 

ABBA plays on a loop through the rubble
   sos; winner takes it all; how can i even try to go on
   he slow dances with Junior in the ruins of a convenience store
   Minilla hums along, wearing a contaminated towel as a cape
   they are a family stitched from fallout and fanfiction

 

somewhere in the distance Rodan watches through binoculars
   Ghidorah cries in three separate atomic bathrooms
   Biollante waters her grief in the fleshy sacs of her abdomen

 

Godzilla tucks the kids in and for once no cities burn
   only the quiet glow of a father’s love shining through the cracks
   of a Kaiju genre too afraid to utter Yaoi out loud