The poem circles around the idea of a first time, and it never says plainly what that first time is. It could be a first sexual encounter, a first attempt at writing, or both at once. The opening calls it "a small but needful dominion," a little territory that matters enormously to whoever rules it. The images that follow feel fragile or slightly absurd: a boat made of "unfortunate paper," a man slipping out of prison dressed as a woman, someone crowing like a rooster at a table.
The speaker seems both amused and humbled. "Words words words" sounds like a shrug, as if language is just noise, yet the speaker is "summoned like an answer" by it. The final lines are the most tender. Starting something new means relearning "old things all over again," and the speaker does it "out of hope." The mood is playful and a little awkward, but underneath it is quietly optimistic.