Black Song Of Gilgamesh III

by Aidan Andrew Dun


Bewildering Enkidu
wild-thing of the hill
bear-sturdy, wooly-locked
tangle-maned leaping
cataracts; kneeling
to kiss tranquil lake;
long-distance runner
with wolfpack; racer
in silent glades with
deer-flock through
midsummer woods;

Enkidu, shaggy-headed
sunchild, enigmatic
facing-down stags
on misty ridges
green-eyed drinker
from torrents, enduring
moonlit marathons
over cedar-country;
at mountain-pools
slaking wolf-thirst
jostling gazelles

Who do not shun him
as deerhunters
ranging the evergreens;
who chance on Enkidu
godlike, androgynous
come on the wildman
bear-tracking, panic
completely, report back
with tales always taller
becoming legends
in Uruk, exaggerated

By poets who overdo
overpaint the Pashupati
as: ‘Eater-of-Cress, Vastly-
Matted Brother-of-Lions’
and so on, imaging
race-memories of Edenic
the Adamu once more
seeming to city-dwelling
modern Sumerians

‘Shamhat, if you can
corrupt the pure thing
galloping with animals
in wildernesses bring him
to to great-walled Uruk
we’ll see if two insanities
can go hand-in-hand
as lovers, become twins;
if innocence to power can
stand equal and opposite.
Catch us a Zikru, O Harlot!