this bound body gives freely its bond:

renders testimony above and below 

one small epoch of endless loss,

miter-cut and framed for the sky, the cosmos, 

the stars in their witness box

still ready for a retying of trying 

to tendon and bone, left 

so long untended and alone

We bury relief in the margin until it spoils:

How corrosive the coping, how hopeful 

ruin's thin remedy, how we live greasy 

enough to beg that desire's residue

leave our outline in oil against the wall