Seven Variations on Hansel and Gretel 1 Gretel pushes her anorexic finger through the bars of the cage but the witch says "I know that trick, it's really a chicken bone." Gretel protests: "Hansel says I'm getting too fat," she tells the witch. Later, when Gretel dies, the witch must let Hansel go, since the recipe called for two plump children. 2 We are raised to love Gretel's chicken bone. The ingenuity of youth. The witch, for all of her power and spells could not really see-only the way a seer saw but not like the rest of us. Old, astigmatic, she is defeated by a thin bone wielded by a small girl, who saves her brother in the process. 3 The witch, an excellent cook, serves the children porridge and fresh honey from the hives in the back pasture. "Come, get warm by the fire," she says, acclimating them. 4 The witch, an excellent cook, serves the children among baby new potatoes, carrots fresh from the garden, the sauce is Hansel's blood with a roux from the miller at its base. 5 "Our father is a lawyer," Gretel says, "he will pay handsomely for our return." "How much," says the witch, and Gretel knows she is hers. 6 "I am a stringy child," Gretel says, "most disagreeable. There are better in the village to the north of here." "Two in the cage," the witch replies," are worth dozens in the village." 7 "It is your fault," Gretel whispers to her brother, angry that he drew them into the woods in one of his silly, boy games. "That's right, blame me," Hansel replies, "but where were mother and father in all this?" The River Asks When I was nine I drowned. Carried by a strong current, lodged in the silver depths, I began to melt, the pain finally dissolving like a lozenge on a fevered tongue-- when my father's sudden, strong grip said "no" to the water. It was like forgiveness, like blessing, like saying, "I'm sorry" & finally being heard. Sometimes truth lies deep, snags you like a hidden root. A half-hour later, curled in the back seat, I drifted into sleep, the river a faded promise under our wheels. The sound of tires slapping bridge rivets louder than the swift water.
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Thank you, Joanna, for the posting. Glad you liked the work. If I can illuminate it any further with comment, please don't hesitate to ask.
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