Dante & Virgil in Hell, by Devon Balwit

Dante and Virgil in Hell, by William-Adolphe Bouguereau (France). 1850.

Dante & Virgil in Hell

Two men grapple, and I mistake them at first
for the two poets, wondering which is Dante, 

and which Virgil. I marvel at how passionately 
they consume one another, the way 

their four hands cling and dig; the vampiric 
mouth, seeking the jugular. I have known 

such kisses, both in the giving and the getting, 
one knee pushing away even as my arms 

cling. Passion confuses, so much like hate, 
hunger, annihilation’s overture. Locating 

the painting’s namesakes disappoints, 
so retiring are they, so shy in their looking, 

gazes not even askance, but elsewhere. Dante 
comforts Virgil, there, there, as tenderly 

as a mother, the laureate’s robe between 
his teeth, pacifying. A demon fixes both 

with a belligerent stare as if to say, man up! 
He hovers, ready to uncloak them, two more 

for the pile, baring what must burn
beneath, the secret torrents of the blood.

Devon Balwit

This poem was written as part of the ekphrastic Halloween poetry challenge.

Devon Balwit writes in Portland, OR. She has five chapbooks out or forthcoming: How the Blessed Travel (Maverick Duck Press); Forms Most Marvelous (dancing girl press); In Front of the Elements (Grey Borders Books), Where You Were Going Never Was (Grey Borders Books); and The Bow Must Bear the Brunt (Red Flag Poetry). More of her individual poems can be found here as well as in The Cincinnati Review, The Stillwater Review, Red Earth Review, The Inflectionist; Glass: A Journal of Poetry; Noble Gas Quarterly; Muse A/Journal, and more.