Deep in
dreams, hurting,
the vast turtle twirls
a little deeper into the ocean floor.
It's nasty being a
hero.
Things bite you.
You're called to work that shreds
your flesh, chars your hope.
Then you heal. If you heal.
Heavy inside his shell,
Gamera dreams himself small again--
but not the turtlet lectured
on a thousand duties, not
those tiny flippers straining toward speed and power.
Now, young again,
Gamera is sliding
down slick mud slopes, frolicking upward
in a shower of bubbles,...
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