There was a man who had a pretty wife
and saw her smiling at the cook. He bought
some poppy and almost without a thought
put her to sleep forever. Once her life
had guttered into death, he drowned the cook
in his own broth, then planned the funeral rites
fit for her status. Left her several nights
and days. She stayed attractive at first look
but squelched and stank. He worried though that men
the mummy-makers might be used to that.
He took her to be dealt with, and then sat
all night under a table, feared again
to catch her all unfaithful. Slept then woke
placed with her, in her coffin, left to choke.