The Child in the Dark

The age has locked me in as you lock a small child

Under the stair,

Punishing him for some indifferent wrong.

See how the little stubborn jeering mouth is set, how he will

not believe

You mean to leave him there,

Since you have threatened him before, or that the door is really

locked, -

Or that his punishment will be difficult or long.

You'll open and release him when he's knocked.

Against the hanging overcoat he giggles in his unbelief,

Kicks at the panel, waits, rattles the knob,

Listens for his father's weakness, the indulgent relenting will.

Then suddenly, some pulse, some throb

Of darkness touches a nerve and, giggles gone, he knows how still,

How small, narrow and airless his world's become.

Eyeball and eardrum

Take fright, and he throws himself against the giant door,

Skinning his weak fist, until, pride and arrogance gone, he begs,

But they do not answer and they do not come

To take away the weightless lizards crawling down his legs,

The horror in the overcoat.

Ah, love, such knuckles on my hands. Such a child screams

in my throat.