On the first day, when he told me
\nnever to touch that tree, I could not remember
\nwhich of the myriad things
\naround us he had named trees
\nbut did understand
\nthat I was expected
\nto please and comply
\nand not to ask questions
\n
\nThus the rest was inevitable –
\nwhen I encountered another
\ninsistent, smooth tongue
\nI simply said yes.
\n
\nOn the whole I had no regrets,
\nfound I quite liked getting my hands in the dirt
\nraising chickens, taming wild dingoes
\nrubbing his back in the evening
\n
\nDid not mind that much
\nthe daily act of contrition
\nhis grumbling about the bliss
\nI had lost him with one careless bite
\nkept quiet when he burnt half the harvest
\nto beg for return of plenty
\nsaw little harm when he taught our sons
\nto sacrifice likewise for the sake of past favor
\n
\nIt was too late when I noticed
\nthey were neglecting their traps and fields
\njealously scanning the sky for signs
\ntoo late to learn how to speak
\nafter so many years of silence
\ntoo late to cry out for Abel cradled dead in my lap
\ntoo late to weep for Cain
\non his outcast wanderings
\ntoo late to do anything
\n
\nBut get up, wrap myself in a deer hide
\npick up a stick, gather fire,
\nwhistle to the she-wolf
\nand start walking west
\nHere at last \u2013 east of Eden
\nby the rim of a shallow salt lake
\nI sit, trying to know that strange face in the water
\nlit by the dying embers hoarded in the skull of my son.
\n <\/p>\n
THE BRAVE LITTLE TAILOR Greetings, On the first day, when he told me never to touch that tree, I could not remember which of the myriad things around us he had named trees but did understand that I was expected to please and comply and not to ask questions Thus the rest was inevitable – when I encountered another [&hellip<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2710,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[116],"class_list":["post-2698","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry","tag-eve-at-cathedral-of-saint-lazare-in-autun"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2698","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2698"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2698\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2714,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2698\/revisions\/2714"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2710"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2698"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2698"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2698"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/strong>
\naccording to Grimm<\/em><\/p>\n
\nsaid the Unicorn to the Tailor,
\ngreetings on this fine day
\n
\nBut, said the Tailor,
\ndon\u2019t you know there is no
\nsuch thing as a unicorn
\n
\nOh I am, she cried,
\ndon\u2019t you see that I am
\nFair as the morning air
\n
\nBright as the morning light
\nSoft as the mourning dove
\nFleeting as morning love…
\n
\nThe Tailor alas
\nsaw no future in poetry
\nso he chopped off her ivory rod
\nrode her home for his hobby horse
\nand married his ugly
\nbut very rich princess
\n
\nUnicorns since that day
\ntravel in disguise
\n
\n
\nAntje Katcher — poet, publisher, political activist — died in April, 2014. A posthumous collection of her work, Catechism: New and Selected Poems is forthcoming from Three Mile Harbor Press, PO Box #1, Stuyvesant, NY 12173. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"