Exclosed

One pattern interacts
With so many other
Fragments of more patterns,

How could one text know all
Of its contexts, much less
Of theirs? We imagine

That we’ve met in a phrase
Or a passage, but then,
If we’ve fallen in love,

How can we know it’s not
The case that there’s somewhere
In the rest of the text

That could betray our trust,
Could have left us a bit,
A poisoned tip, in us?