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.”