Stefania Heim


Who will believe you discernible

From the rooms you inhabit?


Eager, complicit,

You aren’t dangerous yourself.


Take me to the end

Of what you know of me.


Knuckles loose

On the wheel.



We have a pack of spoons left. 

Both of us have failed.


The smell of self and self,

Is it stifling?


First corner. Side of my house.

I know you thought I was lost.


I say wink, but never wanderer.

What we know is: aperture.