| home | issues | about | shop | submissions |
Winter
It’s the season the families move on from us.
There are no caribou here in winter.
They leave us, an old woman and a young woman,
knowing there is little to live on this far from the world.
Stone house
Ours is a stone house so perhaps the first people made it.
Question
Is it right for a woman to sew the hide of a caribou,
but wrong to spear one?
Is it right for a woman to butcher a seal,
but wrong to harpoon one?
Is it right for a woman to cook a char,
but wrong to hook it?
There are fewer rules here
when the hunting families have moved on.
‘Adopted Daughter’
I am a very old woman now.
I was ‘quite old’ when she came to me. She was an orphan.
They call her my adopted daughter, and the term is useful enough.
Transformed
I will marry the girl, I will be a man.
I cut off my toes and they sniff and bark.
They wag their tails, they are my dogs.
I cut off my right nipple and it’s sharp, a spear.
I cut off my left nipple and it’s sharp too, a harpoon.
I make a harpoon rope from the hair on my head,
fishing line from the finer hairs lower down.
I cut out the place between my legs and I have the sledge we need.
I am a man, ready to hunt, ready to marry.
Learning
My husband caught her first seal at the lampside.
It smelt strongly of pee so she gave it to the dogs.
Even they thought twice about it. And they used to be toes!
I went to bed with my husband, hungry.
My husband caught his second seal at the doorway.
It smelt almost as bad as the first one so she gave it to the dogs.
They ate it quickly, though they grumbled about it.
I went to bed with my husband, hungry.
My husband caught his third seal at the porch.
It didn’t smell so bad but we couldn’t stomach it.
The dogs fought over it.
I went to bed with my husband, nigh on starving.
The fourth seal was caught on the ground-ice
and it was good meat.
I don’t know why we couldn’t eat it.
The dogs shared it among themselves.
Though we went to our bed empty we felt optimistic.
My husband caught his fifth seal way out on the sea-ice.
He got there thanks to his dogs and his sledge.
The meat was good and to be honest that way of hunting
set the pattern for our whole way of life.
Arrival
She was a man now
and that explains my baby.
More Questions
Sometimes my husband
would hunt without the sledge and dogs.
It was Spring and our stone house
had its first visitor while my husband was away.
“Whose dogs are these?” the man asked,
knowing they couldn’t be mine.
“My foster mother’s,” I said, plainly.
“Whose sledge is this?” the man asked,
giving me a look I didn’t want to return.
“My foster mother’s,” I said.
“Who has caught these seals?”
“I think you know who.”
Confession
I told him our history.
I had just finished when the dogs outside started kicking up a fuss.
A man’s voice greeted them, my husband’s,
but I knew another change was taking place.
Return
I am an old woman again.
At the house door I saw my wife had a visitor.
I saw there was a man inside the stone house.
I was ashamed and I was frail again, an old woman.
Help, I called out to my daughter, Help.
She came to me and led me in.
The visitor greeted me respectfully but did not linger.
He is the reason you and everyone else knows our story.
Richard Price