If we consider the body and consider it

broken, our eyes have done the breaking.

If we plan its restoration and dig for the legs,

if we stick metal rods into the hips framed

by phantom forearms reaching for no one

and for nothing, and if we find the sliced-off

top of the head (or its missing wing)

and declare it a match, we have forgotten

that he was never marble but air,

that he is the space stone occupied

and occupies, and that the cracks

or voids in our bodies are likewise

the source and conclusion of our presence.