Staring at Echenagusia’s Samson & Delilah Every Morning for a Month

let’s wring them out

these dooms consume me

we spy their secret serpentine

surely tinkling fountains

behold those pretzeled wrists

her bangles golden cuffs

surrender like a tongue

before and after panting

locked eyes locked eyes locked eyes

they’ve never tasted grief

they’re fleeing both their mothers

some secrets almost wholesome

the fresco’s abstracted tulips

a lion rug’s lolled roar

adrift its severed paws

remember when he’s bleeding

how all those muscles fail

our histories never blush

too busy with the tapestries

her hair a rivered soot

stiff as mannequins

reaching the outskirts of proportion

they would have ruined daughters

her tunic sliding down

shoulders smooth as eggshell

on divans of ruby velvet

how long until there’s footfalls

beyond one senses guards

disaster is a sponge

two fronds behind them dead