The Clepsydra by Keith Dunlap

A woman crying full of pleasure through the wall
Hands plastered on the plasterboard
I know that sound
She herself often leads me to the kitchen and then
Props me up, groaning, while I kiss her neck.
The whisperings of girls, smiles, sweet deceptions
Are not what they used to be,
Those thieves of wretched make-believe.

Our souls, [...]