Enkidu

My shadow,

Cutting through my skin again.

Rending its scales,

Releasing rivers of venom.

Alone in the dark,

At the mountains at the end of creation.

In the gathering dark,

The Smith beats his hammer.

With fire and iron,

The craftsman forges his destiny.

To escape his bonds,

To make war on the wicked.

Overthrowing leaguered gods,

To claim the milk of paradise.

 

© Michael Iannucci-Berger

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