Story Poem, Nr.22 — Mrs Noah

“It was an old story that was no longer true ... Truth can go out of stories, you know. What was true becomes meaningless, even a lie, because the truth has gone into another story. The water of the spring rises in another place”. (Ursula K. Le Guin)    
    
     
“He was never so happy as when he had a project:    
but this — an ark? And a bloody big one too.    
I mean, work-shops, wood-stores, animal shelters — fair enough    
but a bloomin’ great ark?    
Though I’ve got to hand it to him    
at nearly 600 years old he’d lost none of his DIY skills.    
Anyway, I’d learnt the hard way      
if a man gets a bee in his bonnet about something    
it’s best to let them get on with it, and say nought.    
     
Then the animals — talk about confusing.    
First it was two of each, then seven, plus two only of unclean animals.    
I’m no good at maths, or cleaning, so I left the boys to sort it out.    
But did they really have to bring on board rats as well - and, for Chrissakes, snakes!    
Weren’t they the ones who started all this mess? But at least dinosaurs    
had died out, irksome beasts.    
     
Anyway, worst bit was fending off all those drowning people.    
Shem, Ham & Japheth with their father, each poking long hard sticks    
shouting “We’re the good guys, piss off you evil bastards”. Terrible affair.    
But as a woman I had no say.    
Had fun with my three daughters-in-law though.    
We made a good foursome playing Bridge    
to fill in the months.    
     
I like to sift truth from the modern trend of embellished story-telling.    
The dove that brought back the olive leaf, for example;    
after nearly a year of the olive tree being submerged in water — I mean, come on. What’s more, Noah wasn’t the only doom-sayer boat-builder on the planet —    
of course other people survived.    
And rainbows, well, they’ve sure been around a long time,      
way before the ark.    
     
Anyway, after landing    
it was quickly back to same-old same-old    
and being a non-person, barely noticed,    
I decided to bugger off and do my own thing.    
Met a nice young woman too    
only 100 years old    
and we settled down comfortably together while I wrote my memoirs.    
I heard the old goat Noah lived another 350 tedious years    
and became a cantankerous drunkard    
cursing his grandson Canaan.    
I was glad to be out of it, you know. 200 years together puts quite a strain on a relationship.    
     
I’ve got to say this though    
I’ve lived through interesting times.    
The Tower of Babel was the next big news    
but that’s another story.    
     
And by the way, I do have a name; it’s Na’amah    
and it means ‘sweet and pleasant’.”    
     
     
     
#CarolAnnDuffy