coy

Gilgamesh skirts Valhalla’s shore

Where Ragnorak once turned and went

She coos and calls, and throws him bones

While he plays quite the coy gent

some summers

Some summers the heat just…

sinks in bone deep, overtaxing

the body, the brain, the heart;

Shade affords little reprieve

and cool water turns warm

well before it hits the lips.

Even the sloughing of skin proves vain.

Even the shedding of...

things burrowed deep where

some summers the heat just

sinks in...

yet it all feels further
than the nearest star.