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
Copyright © J. L. Noonan | Year Posted 2015
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