What do you/I offer? (After Richard Siken)

After I revisited Richard Siken's wonderful poem 'Birds hover the trampled field', I wrote a lot in my Google docs. I didn't 'get it' the first time I read it, which must be about three or four years ago by now, but I didn't have to get it. I let the meaning of it develop in my mind unconsciously without trying to scrounge around for it. I found myself repeating some of his lines, or reusing them in my own poems.
The first time I read it, I read it as an image online; the poem cut off at the line "what does a body of" and I thought that must have been the ending. It was startling, and sudden, but I thought (as a newbie to Siken) that maybe it was his effect. Now I know it doesn't end that way. But when I was writing for myself, I found myself returning to 'what does a body of' again and again. I played with the phrase 'what does a body of fur' when I was thinking about my dog, and the homophone 'what does a body offer'.
What does a body offer when it's asleep? When it's in a coma? When it's old? What does something mean when it can't explain itself-- like my dog? What was my meaning when I wasn't surrounded by other people? There are obviously many answers to these questions and that wasn't what I was searching for. I wasn't searching for answers but rather thinking about how many people may think similar things, and how society values things, ad nauseum, et cetera, whatever. It doesn't really matter. What use are my words? What do they offer?