an old man once made love to me so viciously

i could feel the acid rising up in my throat

it was always the dinner we had just shared

that he paid for, i’d licked the plate for crumbs


an old man made of sawdust and pig skin

taut, sun worn flesh like a fresh banjo’s head

he wanted tears, sweat, a now revisited meal

he wanted to give freely to take away wholly


through duress and destruction and decorum

an old man once owned property in the city

an impressive estate and a pendulum of a boy

chunks of meat rise in my throat once again


sausage link fingers hold dirt under yellowed nails

a boy has a blank expression while fondled roughly

my collar is now wrinkled and he steadies my balance

as bile pour from my nose into my tiny cupped palms