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.