Joanna Ruocco - Another Governess / The Least Blacksmith - A Diptych

The woodcutter had a daughter. The woodcutter's daughter was big like the woodcutter. Her arms were big. Her legs were big. Everyone said what a big girl the woodcutter's daughter, a very big girl. If only the woodcutter's daughter were a son, the son would go into the forest with his father. He would help his father cut the wood. The woodcutter's daughter did not go to the forest. She went to the town. She did the washing in town while the woodcutter cut wood in the forest. The woodcutter's daughter sat on a stool and did the washing. Water ran down the legs of the stool. The woodcutter's daughter wore a dress. The dress became dark. The woodcutter's daughter lifted her hands from the tub. Water ran down her arms. Water ran down her legs. Water ran down the legs of the stool. Water pooled around the tub. The woodcutter's daughter bent over on the stool. She gave birth to a son. The son was big. He lay in the tub with the washing and the crown of his head touched one side of the tub and the heels of his feet touched the other. He was a big son. The woodcutter's daughter took the son home, but the woodcutter did not come home. He did not come home from the forest. The woodcutter's daughter went into the forest. She found an ax in a stump. The metal of the ax was dark and there were hairs on the metal, white hairs that were the length of a man's hairs or the hairs on an animal. The woodcutter's daughter pulled the ax from the stump. She used the blade of the ax to cut the hairs on her head. She held the ax steady and rubbed her hairs back and forth on the blade until the hairs broke. The blade cut into the back of her head as she cut the hairs that grew in the back of her head. Blood ran down her neck. Blood ran down her shoulders. Blood ran down from her neck and across both her shoulders. Her dress became dark. She took off her dress. She put her dress on the stump. She took a shirt from a dark bush with red thorns. The red thorns had pulled white threads from the shirt. Beneath the brown leaves on the path, she saw trousers the color of leaves. She put on the trousers. She walked through the forest. She entered a town. The town had a baker. It had a butcher. It had a farmer. It had a man who boiled bones and a man who sold worsted cloth from a wagon and a man who removed what thickened beneath the tongues of chickens and horses. It had a blacksmith and a vicar and a rich man who owned a mill on the water, but the town did not have a woodcutter. The people of the town smiled when the woodcutter's daughter took the dark ax down from her shoulder.

The orchard is altogether changed. Where are the apples, the soft, rotten apples? The orchard is not brown. It is hard and gray. The walls are hard and gray. They drip. They are stone. The trees are stone. The trees have grown together. The faces in the knots of the trees are gray. Every face has an open mouth. The mouths are filled with fluid. The fluid drips down the walls. The pigs press around. They dig in the orchard. They grunt. They squeal. They move against me. They push with wet faces, hard, wet faces. The teeth are inside the faces, behind the thick skin of the faces. They have white hairs on their faces. White hairs cluster around their eyes. They press against me. They dirty the dress. They smear dung on the dress. I can't breathe with them against me. I can't breathe. They are squealing. It is coming from the crib. It is coming from the carpet. The pigs are digging through the carpet. There is earth beneath the carpet. The pigs put their noses in the earth. They open their mouths. They eat the earth. They eat the tubers in the earth, the white roots in the earth, the tapered root that comes from the earth. They dig deeper than the dogs. They dig a deep hole in the nursery. I wait for her to come into the nursery, to hook her fingers on the edge of the hole and climb up into the nursery. I would sever her neck with the housekeeper's shovel but I have only the covers of books.

You can see into the orchard from the tower. You can see into the orchard from the forest. On one side of the orchard, tower. On the other side, forest. I saw through the bushes in the forest, lights in the tower, shapes in the orchard. The house lit the orchard. It made shadows in the orchard. I sat in the bushes. She held the bough of the tree with her hands and her knees. She clung to the bough. She kicked her feet. She swung down. She dangled. Her face was red and wet. The spots on her face were red and wet. She lifted her knees as she dangled then she let her knees drop. She dropped to the earth. She lay in the apples. The Master lay in the apples. He pulled himself through the apples with his elbows. He slid through the apples. She pulled herself with her heels through the apples. She slid beneath the Master. He jerked against her. He jerked against her. He lifted her shoulders and her head fell back. The hairs on her head hung down to the apples. The crown of her head hung down to the apples. Her head hit the apples. She jerked up and down. Her head hit the apples. The brown skins of the apples clung to her neck. They clung to her shoulders. She slid. The Master pushed on his belly through the apples. Her back slid through the apples. The Master lifted his hand. He hit her head with an apple. He hit her head with a rock. The rock was brown like the apples. It was long and brown. It was a stick. The Master hit her head with a stick. He beat her head with a stick. He jerked against her. He beat with a stick. Black fluid darkened her head, it darkened her hair. Her body dripped with rain. Her body dried in the sun. She thinned in the sun. She withered.

Put fat on the opening. Rub the fat with your hand. Rub the fat hard with your hand, with the palm of your hand. Slip inside. Slip the boot hook inside. Pull from inside the opening. That is how things are born, even in a grand house. With fat and an opening. With a hand or a hook. The children listen. They have knocked over the chairs. They have knocked over the rocking horse. Tamworth leans on the neck of the horse on the carpet. The wooden runners of the horse press into her thighs. She is very fat. She is fat and round. Her breasts are fat and round. They strain the seams of her gray dress. No one has taught them about the fat and the hook. In a grand house, the Mistress births hard. She dies. She dies with blood in the bed. The pigs do not die. The cows do not die. The Mistress dies. In a grand house, she dies. I rubbed the fat with my hand. I dug through the dried deposits with my hand. I dug fast. I pushed with my hand. I pushed in the hook. I hooked. I pulled hard. The hot air filled my mouth. I gagged. I pulled. The sweat ran down my arms and ran down the handle of the hook. The opening spilled. It opened farther and spilled. Brown dung spilled in the fluid. My feet slid. I braced against heaving. I was pressed against the wall. My wrist cracked. I screamed. I could not pull with the hand. I took the other hand and I pulled. My shoulder made a sound. My shoulder cracked. I pulled harder. I slid and the weight of my body pulled down. It pulled down. It pulled down. I lay down flat on the dung. I lay down flat on the fluid. My neck itched with straw. My arms burned. My shoulder burned. The opening spilled and I brought it toward me. It moved toward me. I felt the blows, the hard blows, in my stomach and thighs and it moved against me, wet and hard. The deposits and dung went thick in my mouth so I was very quiet. I did not scream. My mouth leaked. It bubbled. I did not scream. Tamworth listens to the lesson. Her mouth is open. Her mouth is dry. It does not leak. She licks her teeth to moisten the deposits. She wiggles. She is ready for a lesson. There is no hook in the nursery. The hooks are in the kitchen. Meat hangs on the hooks. I will take the meat from the hooks. I will carry the meat to the moat. I will put the green meat on the moat. The meat will not sink. The moat is thick. There is a thick skin on the moat. It ripples. Beneath the meat, curds. Beneath the meat, scraps. Black flies cover the meat. White flies cover the meat. They take the shape of the meat. Little wings on the meat. Sacks bump the meat from the below. Spot fills the sacks. I have seen him fill sacks. He drops sacks in the moat. Things move in the sacks. No, I will not go to the moat. I will not put meat in the moat. Meat should hang. In the kitchen, it dangles. It grows scabs. It grows wings. I will cut the meat from the hooks. I will tie the meat to the beam. It will dangle. I will take the old fat from the can. I will take the old fat. I will take honey. I will take hooks. I will bring the hooks to the nursery. The children have only learned one lesson. Who taught them the lesson? She did not teach them. She taught them globes. She taught them geology. They wrote names in the book. They wrote figures in the book. They counted dogs. Many dogs fit in a sack. Many small dogs. There are many steps to the kitchen. There are many steps to the tower. From the tower, the dogs look small. The Master looks small. They watch the small Master. He carries a sack. No, he carries a dress, a shape in a dress. His head is an apple. It is the size of an apple. Tamworth puts her face on the glass. She flattens her face. She pushes. Spot pushes. He puts his hands on the glass. Tamworth flattens her face on the glass. Spot pushes. Fine white hairs cluster on his cheeks, Tamworth's white hairs, long white hairs. They come loose from her head. They stick to Spot's cheeks. He pushes. Her reddish eyelids twitch on the glass. He pushes. He counts hairs. Tamworth bangs on the glass. Her wet mouth makes an O on the glass. It makes a square on the glass. He pushes hard. She says, Master. She says, Master. He is too small to be seen.