113 June 2007
I'm almost sorry for Delilah, as
she stands in early morning, pale light bring-
ing in a new age, as the Philistines
take from her house her shackled Samson-love.
Cold makes her shiver, like his eyes of fear
and hurt and pain from chains that weigh against
his now-weak body; wanting nothing but
to touch his rough, shorn hair. She is too young;
How can she understand her fall from grace?
How can she even know what she has done?