ReContoured: She Muses Jael At Zaanaim, Act I

. . . the stars in their courses fought against Sisera.

---Judges 5:20b


Jael, a beautiful and curvacious young woman, always barefoot
Sisera, commander in chief of the forces of King Jabon of Hazor
A small Chorus of adolescent curvacious girls, also always barefoot
A Messenger

[Jael and Sisera enter the spacious tent; to one side, is the Chorus]


SISERA; Remember, you invited me in here.
You told me to turn to you without fear.
JAEL: I meant those words, and spoke them truthfully.
SISERA: I need not be afraid of you, Jael.
I fear only those women whose beauty---
and I mean slender beauty---can distract
me from my duties to Jabon, my King.
You are not one of those---too fulsome in
appearance; curves instead of delicate
lines, and very frivolous so that you walk
outside . . . barefoot! . . . rather than put on shoes.
JAEL: I like the way the soft earth feels beneath
my toes and soles, especially when dew
has fallen in the morning. My husband
adores my feet, and loves to kiss them too;
he loves to kiss my feet, and all my curves.
SISERA: Both are disgusting to me. Your husband
must be a pervert to degrade himself,
and not to use you to nature's intent.
CHORUS: Discourteous: you are, here, just a guest.
SISERA: Keep silence in my presence. Just a guest?
I am, rather, a famed celebrity,
commander of the armies of Jabon---
commander in chief of Jabon's forces.
No greater than I will enter this tent.
JAEL: The Lord, the God of Israel; the one
true God of all the Universe---
the Lord enters this tent when I offer
my prayers each morning, and I pray barefoot;
because where He is, is holiest ground;
not just where Moses saw the burning bush
on Sinai's slope. The Lord is greater than
the Universe; therefore greater than you---
who are a very small part of this world,
despite your swagger, rank, and brass medals.
SISERA: Obese, debased, and barefoot: woman, why
do you dispute my words? Have you no couth,
no sympathy, to disrespect me, who
have seen my army broken by our foes?
And all my soldiers mercilessly slain,
their bodies washed away in Kishon's flow.
Even I had to flee---my chariot,
ornate, bejewelled, by cunning craftsmen built;
a gift to me from Jabon to reward
my courage: it has been twisted and smashed.
Most certainly my mother now awaits
my triumphant return, leadings the spoils,
including slave girls given to my most
valiant warriors. But I have not prevailed.
Much easier the facts I must explain
to Jabon than to face my mother's fierce
dismay when she is told of our defeat.
The very thought gives me a piercing chill.
Jael, bring here a blanket to warm me,
and bring me some cold water for my thirst.
Thoughy of my mother's wrath has dried my mouth,
and parched my throat worse than a desert's heat.
JAEL: Here is a mantle: it will comfort you.
And drink this cup of milk to help you rest.
SISERA: Stand by your tent's flap and if any man
inquire to know if some man is in here,
answer to that inquiry a firm "No."
Oh, Sleep---come quickly, that slumber's embrace
may put aside these burdens from my mind,
forgetting them at least a little while,
to dream of willing whores whose slender frames
will minister to my every desire.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a first draft, so subject to change at any time.  The opinions I have put into the mouth of Sisera are to identify him as a hater, and do not, in any way, reflect my opinion about curvacity; an opinion repeatedly expressed in the other poems of this series.

I have wanted to write this since September, 1976.

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