What you don’t really know

            Is that he lost the thread

            And it was I who led him back

            To make up for his lack of nerve – 

            Understandable given my physique –

            He told a tale

            I don’t mind,

            The labyrinth is my home:

            I do as much as one might do

            With a caress

            And my muteness, 

            The fact that anything and everything I feel

            Comes out in moans or bites or bellows –

            They see it as a sign of strength,

            My lack of words

            Don’t blame me 

            If they don’t want to leave:

            The door has always been

            Open 

            But how the hell . . . 

            That’s right, 

            You’ve put them in my mouth