Man with Hands and Ankles Bound

Past midnight you're peeking Your neighbor's open window shades Saw a man crouched on the hardwood On his knees and elbows splayed Like an offering, an altar call reordering The story of our origin, some primal thing An elemental shame There's a light on in the darkness to an unfurnished apartment And a mattress on the ground There's a woman standing upright like some archangel alighting In the nighttime and before her There's a man with hands and ankles bound And we don't need the sound to know the plot of the film Angles switching in between her and him Captions bracketed the language of skin Cut to a room past midnight Frame the camera on two lovers' conversation Where they promised to be open and be honest with themselves About their bodies' inclinations and the systems that replace The very fiber of their beings with a shame they're made to feel They've always felt And there's quiet on the set Except the ceiling fan there turning Throwing sound in all directions There's a process of unlearning There's a tension when he says "Sometimes I think of you with strangers When I lie awake at night afraid in bed With or without me to watch or to stand at the edge Where your back is a bridge and the distance it spans Goes from me to some man Goes out from an old familiar country To some uncharted land" And you're peeking through the curtain To a naked man deserted and a mattress on the ground To apartments still unfurnished and indulgences unburdened There's a figure disappearing with a briefcase through the front door In the crowd Man with hands and ankles bound Man with hands and ankles bound Man with hands and ankles bound Man with hands and ankles bound And we follow her out of the house Then pull it back, widen the shot Lose her inside of the crowd Then go black But leave the sound in to carry it out The last act Credits roll past the crowd and now Bring the houselights back