This body was never made is a meditation on grief and its attendant fears surrounding the body - the body's frailty, lineage, and legacy. Its poems paint portraits of maternal loss, of a fractured family, of nature's eloquence, and of transcendental beauty. While This body was never made does not solve the problem of death, it embraces the "night sounds" that accompany an awareness of the body's temporality, resolving in the chapbook's final lines, "There is nothing in this room but shapes of us-amorphous/organs ascending and descending underneath the bed sheets." In this collection, still-life speaks, seascapes listen, and math provides counsel, reminding us that life exists before and beyond the body.