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March 2014

Red Cap (Wolf’s Perspective in Carol Ann Duffy’s “Little Red Cap”)

In the morrow’s light I took a stroll, once again on my own,
Down the fertile dirt path of my home, the forest
Was delicate, the green birch leaves, the sweet scented maple trees,
Till you came at last to the railway line, the edge, the last pine.
It was there where our eyes first clapped, the girl in the vermillion cap.

She stood on the hill dressed in her robe, curiosity arose.
My proudest verse, she responded in prose.
Such innocence! Such ignorance! Such thirst
For knowledge! In the interval, I made my presence clear,
Getting near, Pyrrha’s spear, young, fun, I offered a drink,

Her first. You might ask why. Here’s why. I was gullible.
The girl, I thought, was just like the rest,
An ignorant, easily manipulated, human pest.
I led her to my home, through the clustered mangroves
She crawled the trail. Her head near my tail.

We clung to each other till the dawn, my pawn,
Love poems in the air, the sheets, our hair,
Then she slipped from my grasp, found a bird – white dove -
She brought it in, a feast to commemorate our love;
Breakfast in bed, she said, and forced it down my throat.

What was this human girl worth to me?
I taught her my ways, begotten, not made,
Father to her trade. My books were our life;
They caused our final strife. Words brought us close,
She abandoned her prose.

I was Naïve back then – ten years at her side,
The forest turned dull, as did my hide.
The birds’ chirp seemed far-off in the tree tops,
And the rabbits, faster in their hop.
She leeched out of me all that she could

And once again, wore the red hood.
I smelt the willow’s blood as it wept,
And heard the salmon splash as it leapt, but did not expect
The axe, clean cut, one chop, from bottom to top.
She stuffed me with rocks, stitched me up.

No longer distraught, I sought her out.
She laid flowers on my lap, the girl in the blood red cap.

© 2014 Alex T.
Escuela Campo Alegre
Caracas, Venezuela
Grade 11

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