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.