samson

they say that man fell when that

woman cut his hair as though any

any tresses could hold the power

and strength of any mortal

(she walks through the monkey

house admiring the small faces

caged finding some element of

happiness or psychosis inherent

to regular feeding habits imposed

poo flung in ecstatic horror at the

slack-jawed considering themselves

above the possibility of role reversal)

i hate this

i have no idea why i subject myself

to this level of ugly the flat screen

sense of wonder wrapped in a waffle

cone dripping upon everything i ever

considered that i ever dreamed into

being here now seeing all of it the

thunder and the storm temporary

rivers and permanent scaring laced

with strong medicines whose names

i cannot pronounce

(she stands to one side as a look

is recognized a gesture common

to primates focused upon a cherry

cheeked young one in knee pants

taunting laughing pointing face

hidden under the evidence gluttony

smeared from ear to ear the future

politician’s smile teeth bared is a

warning among most creatures

but she did not come to watch

the monkeys masturbate)

there is no magic there are only

things which happen which we fail

to grasp methods and intentions

beyond our reach we clutch at

straws as we slide down the hill

wishing for redemption or unicorns

to be real if not for just one moment

and somehow either would be enough

to restore faith to restore our souls

to pre-hurricane conditions no it wasn’t

a haircut that took his strength

it was loving someone

that didn’t love him

that did the job