for Ai

A man and a woman engage In conversation, and the woman Keeps saying that she wants to

Take residence in Dante’s inferno Right now, for living has become A scalding hell where everyone Keeps demanding their own suck Of her marrow, a grim summa Of love, or what passes for love.

Her sad eyes become sadder still As they come to rest at the base Of his bent spine with his separate Pain that remains untouched by Hers’ as she leans towards him Across the unscaled space that he Prays for his hands and mouth

To breach, for sometimes nothing, Nothing can console as a blanket Of different skin covering the body All through the night, joined like Two adjacent longitudes over which The innocent sky spins and spins.