Fitcher’s Bird Sestina

Allyson Shaw

One day that old rag and bone

man came for me, his eyes

bent on wooing. Like my sister

before me, I went away from Mother,

cows, hen house, and the endless eggs

to be gathered, to a bare bridal chamber.

His brown eyes each a chamber

unkempt, reflecting my flesh and bone.

i would find her, her eggs

unbroken. I only have eyes

for you, he sang.  Untrue! Mother 

warned of such charms. My sister

didn’t listen. I found my sister

while he was away. In the chamber

farthest she lay, undone of mother-

maker, all bits and bone

now, hair flung, eyes

asunder, belly up. Eggs

spilt. I bundled her eggs, 

assembled my sister

piece by piece, eyes

in last. Marked in chamber

dark, she stood. Alive. bone-

bland I was when he returned. Mother

taught me deceiving. Mother

calls them girl-pearls, our eggs.

I show him mine and a ring of bone

he gives me, the ring my sister

wore. Innocent of the chamber

he thinks me, but sister’s eyes

see again. I look in his eyes.

There’s a deal to be made, Mother

would say. Take this chamber

of my heart and bring a basket of eggs 

and gold to mother (a sister-

laden basket!) for this ring of bone.

I make another sister of flower-decked bone 

While he’s gone to Mother. I’m off, coated with petals and eggs

while my twin watches from the chamber with daisy eyes. 

*

Allyson Shaw lives in Northeast Scotland.  She has recently finished writing a book length work of narrative nonfiction about the witch in the Scottish landscape, Ashes and Stones, which will be published in 2023.