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[3] ZO R B A’ S D AU G H T E R Night boasted it was eternity. But here now through the brown links of trees the sun spills dawn. Light’s turn (dice on a table) to be eternal, a current to feed her house, abruptly wake her like a thief. Who will teach her divine collaboration? Who will love her dirty hands enough to leave her head unshaved? She goes barefoot as the sky, nectarine slice on a spoon, sweet coral carnation, little fish with wings in her heart, tempted to fly from the spear she cannot escape, resolved to die like Samson braced against the pillars of the temple, roaring for his eyes. ...

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