Samson

Samson I dream of the summer, when We slept soundly and so did the city Like a doll, you never changed The scissors mocked me; “Never to cut, never to cut”, they chant We were tethered by the book we read My bookmark was always ahead of yours, On the night side table, hiding the bible We took glasses of milk and went to bed You woke up once for a slice of toast Your whisper in my ear, “don’t call me love, you’ll make me melt” Like that, we swore affinity The night the mice crept out from their holes For the brie you left on your plate We wore caps to sleep in; The stars were falling on our heads I heard you dream one night of the mice: They nibbled on our ears and sang softly of the wind; No one had responded to our ‘lost cat’ poster Mid-July, we awoke with cold sweats To the fear of miserable failure rotting our dreams Our anxieties wore us down to the bone I, pulling my beauty and worries with every strand You, taking each plucked hair back off my pillow September made me bitter; August made me love more Under white light, your hair looked red The dull scissors under lucent bulbs And Samson, You cut my hair to give me strength, not take it away