Then all four of us
are placed
onto adjacent sides of
the octagon.
Geometry-perfect,
I lie between stone-hardness
and froth,
field of vision restricted to
flesh and marble.
Torsos incognito.
Extremities
not conjoined,
nevertheless
behold this giant
lumbricus touristris,
its dead skin peeling.
Pir-ü Pak, “pure pure”—
what’s the ablution
to absolve me for—
the scrub? I purchased it.
