Elkanah's First Wife, Hannah

Elkanah’s First Wife, Hannah 
The calf bent against the bristling 
rope, resisting but not bolting. 
He pulled back his teeth, a rough  
tongue brushing the tether, a bleat bursting 
from his lips. 

I watched, tugging on the thread dangling 
from my needle before pulling back 
a corner of linen, plunging the point 
through the sternum, a blind dig 
for the upper crease, and finally pushing it back 
up, emerging from its toile tomb. 
The ephod was already woven—three strands thrust 
together, watching as my gold thread threatened overhead. 
My own weanling sat at my feet, wondering 
at my working. A boy I had prophesied 
into being—a boy I had thrust 
out. His name was God’s 
name, his name was  
heard. I would name God’s son, 
too. I would make sure that they called him 
anointed, make sure they acknowledged his multitudes.
 
Up, Samuel. 
I slid the robe over his wrist, a thumb caught 
in a wandering thread. Fabric fell 
to the floor around him, 
a finger tugged at the collar. 
Next year, it would be too short.  
Next year, I would make another.

Courtney Hatch is an English Instructor, an American Literature MA student, and a creative nonfiction and poetry writer.