She asks about the scratches and bruises
found too often
on too many parts of my person.
I can’t explain them
and not in a “my wife must never know” way.
I seem to never know
what my body’s gotten itself up to.

How have I hurt myself?
I can never say.
My body’s history
remains a complete mystery to me.

I worry a bit
about the distinct chance of sleep walking
or midnight transformation
into mummy sea creature
or possible possession.
I don’t know what I’ve done
but in this global village
anything imagined
can likely be enacted.

I believe I have done nothing wrong.
I hope nobody had been hurt
by my hand.
I pray that I don’t bleed tonight.