Every Morning the Story Is Dead, and Every Night It Starts Again

The way Apep was drawn in looping waves,
Not as a coiled snake or a snake stretched out,
A snake as a sequence of curved ridges,
Sometimes a knife through each segment, the barque
Of Ra coasting overtop the ridged waves
Like a package on a conveyor belt,

Makes you consider Apep as figure
For the general waviness of the night,
Of the deep, of all things hard to cut through
With the sharpest of human inventions,
Including gods and stories about them,
Including stories and how to kill them.