How could you know? I would not have told you.
Only if you looked deep into my one ravaged eye,
seeing flat black that turns away, admitting nothing.
Might this have told you what words could not? I don’t expect it could.
I am shy. I would not meet your gaze head on. Instead I turn my head.
I would not be so foolish to reveal, at our first meeting,
that I am not what I seem. I am bound in netting
that sets only part of me free. The rest stays, wrapped and warm.
A man, after all, does not let his armor give away weakness:
a twisted knee, a flawed shoulder, some shortness of the breath.
It is my candor that allows me my secrets.
I mean no harm. I have a generous soul (inside of its shell).
I can not blame you, or you or you, for if I were not as I am
I would do the same. So I keep listening. A sweet voice sings
“Schlummert ein...” I am being slowly reeled in,
strings wrapping tight around me and soon
I will no longer be in danger of falling.
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