In late night loving
I slip deep in this bottomless dark,
so far that even in your length of limbs,
among your seams of combustible blood,
I feel a mile away, alone.
I do not accuse: you do not desert me.
I just lose the profit of my love,
sometimes, here in this long dark.
I chip away as though to find you
hidden in these walls.
I do find you, now and then. Bits of you: not all.
Each time my sanctuary shudders
I expect my own blind questioning
to fall in upon and smother me.
This is how I'll die:
chipping away at this black wall,
searching one more time for the fuel that fires you.
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