Samson’s forgotten wife:

Only you could tell the trees:

Step out of your roots, like slippers,

in the language of seven seas

call the forest to dance,

whisper 

to the breeze

of her own romance,

and name

the moon's vanity, make her blush.

Ever the fool, I believed your love 

was truth as if it were scripture, because I thought 

I was destined for you

like a prayer for Zion.

But your golden 

promises were honey rotting in

the carcass of a lion.