& in your deck, perhaps
my acorn is a clover, or my pike
in your vision turned to leaf, & though you
know my knave

be your knight, what piece of yourself was left
behind when you toppled off the horse meeting
another definition on the ground, that
was close

enough to you in mirror form, that there was
no need to re-mount or re-invent.
Now together or coined as company designed
to be a rope

around your neck, not a noose but nooselike.
Like a circle, that rather than stealing your breath, is just
happy to hold you tight, & be there alone at
night with you.