Leah Will Say Nothing

my father said, when Jacob enters

the tent, until it is accomplished.

I did not believe it would be

accomplished. What thief

does not know trickery when it comes

courting, hands full of daughters,

and sheep, and savoury meat?

Yet he came into the tent in the dark,

full of intention and heat. My body

would not have it, my gorge rose against him, and I said,

Jacob.

Straightway he began to rage and wring,

flail and hit, twist my hair around his fist

to hold me. He hurt me, however he could

he hurt me, like gutting one of my father’s sheep

with no thought of the life,

only the meat.

Then in the morning,

great weeping and wailing and beating

of breasts, the show for Rachel.

Jacob and my father dealing, Mother

comforting Rachel.

My body wept

and wept, it could not stop knowing.

No eyes followed me from the tent

to the well. The knife was sharp

and hard but finally, I could not.

With my eyes, I stared

at the four of them, eating now

outside the tent, and with my mouth

I cursed them

as I keened

and the knife

sawed off my hair.