with a woman who wants to be a stranger to herself laid out like a maiden corpse resentful of those able to express their thoughts, their eyes her sight knotted to voyeurism across-the-way apartment windows the wife with her legs open the husband of that house busy with some monotonous chore the humidity of the afternoon sucking all will from her wilted flowers on our balcony her spirit wetted into the sheets, I reach for her hand; it goes limp. Her eyelids shut with sweat.
A light hangs over us.
in paradiso, ego sum