The speaker seems to be addressing someone, perhaps a woman, though the poem never makes the situation fully clear. It opens with a kind of release: they've "stopped looking / to be excused," as if they no longer need permission or forgiveness. Then comes a striking image of a woman "stroked / to a fine / cross-hatched plan," which sounds like a drawing or a pattern, something delicate and carefully made. The speaker admires the nerve it takes to "take each / thread and loose it," to unravel something intricate.
The second half turns toward endurance. The speaker can handle "the grabbing vines / and slapping branches," rough obstacles that feel almost like a jungle. Then a sharper pause: "But this!" Whatever "this" is, it's harder. Yet the poem ends quietly, with the speaker saying "I can take / that too." The mood is defiant but tense, a mix of boldness, exposure and stubborn acceptance. The short lines make each claim feel hard-won.