THE STAKES ARE MYSELF

in extension

something always wobbles

so easy for me to stamp

your happiness over mine

assume its shape is simple

imagine I can dust a space

for it to settle 

is there even room? 

a way to find yourself

finding yourself

when someone else

is there already?

no   no   no 

sun and frost wait

for no woman 

can’t afford to lose 

the midnight canopy

of this new footing

it might be real

the knocking, coaxing

combing out

gentle approach to

inhale the winter honeysuckle

in a cold wet blink