Not a solid thing, like steel or a rock.
Full of voids, the way a vault is capacity
for what is to come, and what was.
The passing of a person who has built it.
In this way it resembles bone—serpent
eating its tail, one half, osteoclast,
dissolving the other, cells foaming
from this effort. Bone-cleaver cleaved
to bone. Though what survives is just the distal
white form, a hollow—bone’s death
masks—what awe that we make out
of this brokenness a constellation: bone.