On all fours, in Turkey

On all fours, in Turkey

for Tom

His shoulders hung sickly from the sockets,

his wrists like cogs

turned me over click-tock slow.

I sunk back,

concentrated on my colon cramming solids,

the apple soaps, thick as bricks in the cloth bag.

My eyes were mortar,

I knew he could see the spaces

between my vertebrae filling with steam.

I sprung onto my knees

and skeeked out

carefully, carefully please..