A Man of Few Words
Come out of the church
To the open air
With dancing
sunbeams about the streets
I told him to come, to come into sight
He yelled back to me, “I’m allergic to the light.”
I saw him swing on the bars
Like an agile young boy
His looks deceive him,
his age does not suit him
I said, “Come out, do not wait for the night.”
He said, “I can’t, I’m allergic to the light.”
Long knotted hair the length of his back
Dressed in wool sweater and baggy brown slacks
Covered in sand from a play in the park
I tried to clean him up but he stayed in the dark
The flash of a camera or the ray of electric
He curls up into a ball, with nothing but fear
So I said, “Face your fears, do not give into fright.”
One last time he insisted, “I’m allergic to the light.”
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