- Insofar
as the stairs are made of oak, we are pretenders to secrecy
as the cell wall is made inviolable, the proteins are stacked against us
as the coastline reassembles according to invisible forces even more forbidding than itself, how can we claim there is anything familiar
as death comes to the party and leaves its mantle on the bed, we can be sure it will not go home alone
as the orca performs flawless tricks, it conceals the extent of its loneliness
as the body lacks a substitute, there may be virtue in lacking [End Page 93]
Benjamin Landry is a research associate in creative writing at Oberlin College and the author of Particle and Wave (U of Chicago P). His poems have appeared in Guernica, Poetry Daily, Subtropics, and elsewhere. His essays and reviews have appeared in Boston Review, Los Angeles Review of Books, Rumpus, and elsewhere.