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Delilah
- Red Hen Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
38 deLiLah In the dream I wore my hair long and red and boarded a train for your memory of Poland. I rolled through violet clouds of coal smoke to Warsaw, where she waited out the rain with you. She fed the wood stove, warming the narrow room you shared.The past was just as I’d imagined: tenderness down to the dove-colored walls; sheets of rain slid over you, whole as touch.Tenderness even as she stood above you, buried her hands deep in your damp curls, and cut them, handful after soft handful. Does it mean less that I dreamed myself there? Finally I could leave the color of doves and cold, broad-sheeted rain behind. I could leave her in Poland and return to you wholly, forgiving her for strength you lost, your dark hair falling audibly because it hurt. ...