Michael J. Henry’s poems reveal the tensions between the physical body and the psychology of attachment. Alternating from quiet odes and memomoria to the whimsy of ordinary daily experiences like swim meets and tattoos, Henry’s work picks away at our corners, revealing the blood and bone beneath. His world spins from delight to regret; he deconstructs Elvis into ekphrasis, and he carefully examines how time flits and love can evaporate. The body is not permanent in Henry’s view, but the elements of human consciousness are as real as bone, where ”...my will is a skeleton bound/by silver twine…” and “[Edward Hopper’s] shoes wear down and down…”