And some days I wonder about Samson
How he hoped Delilah would shear his hair
He caught her watching him when he pulled it back
A tangle caught in a vise, baring his teeth for war.
When she sheared the locks he heard her knife
But kept his eyes shut, pretending to sleep.
When he stood, the weakness came as a relief
He felt his bones turn to milk, and his chest felt full.
He could feel his feet on the earth
And when he stood the dirt hummed quiet into his thighs.
And when he touched the sharp ends of his hairs near his scalp
They were like tiny tiny papercuts bristling in the sunlight.

 

His lungs filled with air and all at once he smelled
The orange blossoms and the jasmine.

 

When they came to tie him up, he was meek
And for the first time, he cried.

 Hännah loves every part of the business of telling and sharing good stories. For now, she lives in Los Angeles with an orange cat. You can read her blog and follow her on Twitter @haettinger, where she mostly tweets about how hungry she is.