In The Quiver Of Gilgamesh Poem by Soheil Najm

The sky nears.
I clench the grass.
A thunderbolt strikes my shoulder.
Wait, Enkidu,
don't look in the mirror.
We're just beginning our journey.
The city of Uruk is still far away.
In my quiver is a man-child
and visions gulped from the cups of illusion.

Enkidu, you stranger
stepping in my blood,
we have a meeting with the gods of laziness,
who, drunk, sit watching us die.

Enkidu, my brother, my enemy,
what happened is not our choice.
I am your twin. You are my refuge.
Uruk is our only child.
In my quiver are sacked cities
and maps waiting to be drawn.
On my lips are songs snatched by sparrows.

Enkidu, my brother,
take off your childhood and come down to the river
where our tales dissolve in the mud
and the women of the palms
sleep on beds of longing.

Enkidu, it's as if you find comfort
in your black sun shining madly on my soil,
as if winged horses steal time,
as if we remain naked from the dream!

translated by the author and Yahya Frederickson