Hey There, Samson – a poem by Erika B. Girard

Hey There, Samson

I wonder infrequently
why you wear your hair so long

only to tuck it up under
a brim woven from the same straw
Rumpelstiltskin once made use of
to spin, spin into gold for a girl

I wonder if it hides—
your hair, I mean—

the layers of secrets that lie inside
deep inside

I wonder if it hides—
your hat, I mean—

the hair that holds your ego, your
power, that middle ground

between id and superego
that one theory claims reigns
like tragedy, like truth

above all.

Erika B. Girard is currently pursuing her M.A. in English and Creative Writing with a concentration in Poetry through SNHU. Originally from Rhode Island, she derives creative inspiration from her family, friends, and faith. Her work appears or is forthcoming in The AlembicSandhill ReviewWild Roof Journal, and more.

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