Fox shall go down to the netherworld
sez our Ur-test, written before the flood
in the palpable materials of paradise
all clay and reeds.
There, he shall not eat the bread.
There, he will not drink the water.
There, he will throw the salt
behind is shoulder, to the left.
Will Fox burn his mask
after he emerges, root-torn
to the buzz of the indifferent gods
and the screams of the fly-stung priests?
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