Under a storm that sounds like a vengeful god laughing, two people try to work out what love actually is. The poem keeps asking whether love and self-destruction might be the same thing, and it never settles the question. A man kneels and begs a woman to let him "feign worship" of her, wanting the "void of forever." She looks at the sky, her eyes taking on the color of the god's crimson teeth, and answers only, "Just for a second." That small reply carries the poem's ache: he wants endlessness, and she offers a moment.
The mood is stormy, uncertain, and a little awed. The rain falls on them "like they were just one," yet it clears up nothing. The last lines break apart and trickle down the page, one word per step, like raindrops. Next to forever, the poem suggests, even two people who feel enormous are tiny.