Delilah’s Daughter by Robert Louis Henry

Feb 17 2011

I placed my left hand on the Holy Bible. Her hands flew forward in frustration, like she might choke me, or wanted to throw a hot iron at me.

“Don’t turn this into a joke,” she scowled.

I took her hand. She gave me a soft look, ran her free hand through my hair, and twisted. She yanked my face close to hers. Another tug, and she held a chunk of my hair. I let go of her hand, and wiped the moisture from my eyes. She stuck the hair inside her lip like a wad of Skoal. I kissed the left side of her nose. I kissed the right side of her nose.

“Your majesty,” I curtsied, and climbed into bed to watch her leave.

Robert Louis Henry writes poetry, prose, and songs in Tennessee. He’s editor-in-chief at Leaf Garden Press ( He’s working on a few limited edition multimedia projects, and his first collection of poetry, God loves rich kids and we smoke off the same cigarette, is currently available as a free download from Bygawd Books. Find more at his blog:

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