for Craig walked among the wild comfrey and the weeds naming fruit trees in nasturtium in the borage bees worried and we about them on the edge Craig in a collared shirt with an open face of the day flung wide and garden earth like the palm of a hand

imagine and all I had to my name these lines a spider knitting in cheese-wire

I have composed a list of bodies entering the cordon of the homicide the victim lying in his cold cocoon I have included my own without compassion without enmity my childhood bedroom my father’s coffin I have compiled the names of femicides opening the present to continuing mutilation to

because I can be seen almost everywhere I go and the information is attached to my person so that my physical location is for all practical purposes a mere indexical and the actual presence of my head and hands heart respiratory and alimentary organs is a dimensionless point and feet

The love of the body is the longest lasting because the body does not age its breakdowns and desertions where it was liquid now it is mineral where it would move turning to stone taking its leave falling ripening sagging ripping folding in wrinkles dappling blemishing dying to itself and