Margins are not self-evident things.I've studied them:A hapless beginning's edge,water-stained perimeters,fraying selvages---the bleached white bordersin between daylightand ancient passageways bridgingtongue-tied night skies. We face east in search of windows,opt for verges in lieu of brinks.
What is the sum of 8 and 10:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.