It’s all that remains.
Layers of dust won’t come down from the heavens. Muffled sunlight and
gagged moonlight. For each layer that returns, another ten just hang there.
All day, all night.
During darkness that one sound. That boom, that thunder-clap. Never distant,
never near. It’s just there. What’s left of the streets empties. But the dust
won’t leave. It never leaves.
There’s nothing left. Skyscrapers lie hollow. Neon has lost its hum.
Telephone messages never leave the nest. Everything’s lost to dust.
Roads lead to nowhere. All crushed, all cracked.
The shadow remains. That ten thousand metre hulk of jags and angles,
ill-defined yet familiar. Lumbers between what we’re once districts
at its own deliberate pace. Its left noting but dust.
Blue fire still lingers.
Clings to trees and bricks.
Burns bright like the dipper.
Image found here: http://www.ohmygore.com/review-godzilla-vs-biollante-120.html
NaPoWriMo day 8. Monsters and what not.