Whatever you thought your body to be,
vessel for hubris, trapdoor to the soul,
sight for sore eyes or heavenly vision,
rack of flesh with nothing to offer at all.
A temple of the holy ghost, a ghost,
black hole for dogs to bury their bones.
The dog in heat who offers herself,
the offering itself or the heat alone.
Place for men to lay their heads and die,
plank of wood that leads to the sea.
Whatever you thought your body to be,
see it out walking, forgetting your name
and the presents you gave it for all its birthdays
and the ways that you loved it and didn't.
