Two poets 20 and 23 years old, 
Naked in bed with the shades drawn
Intertwine themselves, suck nipples and

When Lisa told me she’d made love
to someone else, in that old Tepeyac warehouse
phone booth, I thought my world

The memory of Lisa descends again
through night’s hole. 
A rope, a beam of light

My gift to you will be an abyss, she said, 
but it will be so subtle you’ll perceive it
only after many years have passed

At three a.m. we passed
through the Great Pit
and our boat, which had always been creaky