My Wife

[For Clair May.]

She has to plot for me,
Our re-measured half-life:
Side-step a wish-flat world,
Navigate every strife.
She ensures my sleep is taken,
Re-fills the gap.
She has to micro-manage
Each low-kerbed trap.
Such mis-rules were never our
Rung out wedding vows:
My shaken hand, still in hers:
This we espouse.

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