The Hole

We had a shovel each
but you sat down,
refused to dig.
You said you had a hole nearby
just deep enough.

I dug around you anyway,
burning with exertion
passionate as an oil fire.
You gave off no heat
and almost no light.
You avoided my eye
but I knew you were watching.

You crossed your legs
sharpened your pencil
as we slowly descended;
as the manhole of sky
gradually telescoped
to a pinprick
and we began to hear
the unmistakable
copulating rhythms
of the Earth