From Outer Pradesh by Nathaniel Mackey

As with the old-time people, the
  word their one rescue, words
would be our rescue we’d been
     told. Believing so braced us,
                                              book
 of the book’s advantage, book of
    the word’s leverage, lift…
                                         Al-
beit words were our one rescue
 they were those Night Choir
sang. No way could we be free
     of apprehension… But in the
                                                 state
        known as fretless his and her
  heads flew, Nunca and Anuncio
     thumbing the book of not, not
that what would be would have to
                                                 do
  with them, not that they were there
                                                      though
they were