In the morning he's got to work on his skulls, mapping their teeth and tails. He is a cartographer of bodies' bones' sounds through teeth. Take topographies of those bites you take of me, and of boys young, and of women with heads bound long, and of those sacred among all us fools.

We order them to order ourselves and make marks out of what pieces are missing. We are not those damn animals, we mark our bodies for bliss.

• between eyes
• what sockets the spine
• O', what halo! and the ivory inside it
• the jaw that cradles
  
• the length of legs
  
• digits detach
  
• what was in that grave, exactly?