a shame to point at the moon and see only the finger

Nettie Zan presents a raucous and impudent book of persona poems, dripping with the tradition of seeing folk, bible, and mythological stories from a new perspective. Witness Tweedledum's opinion on Alice, Jonah speaking to the Whale, van Gogh's last canvas telling his serenade song, and many more hot takes on old tales. Here's an excerpt on the Woodcutter's view of Little Red Riding Hood:

The Woodcutter Buries His Hatchet

Wolfie and I's little game surely never did anyone any harm,

we prowled the edges of the wood so discreetly,

learned the routines of the men who cleared the woods

and the villagers who delivered goods from town to town,

the day-trip days of hermit types who lived deep in the forest.

Truth be told, Wolfie was shy, even a little self-loathing

being so long in the fang, muzzle dusted gray, and patchy coat

and it pained him to watch his wild home be torn down day by day

by his own sweet woodcutter, lumberjack lover ... me.