Autistic Boy

A purple hexa
gon has pride of place. Born
of a certain violence,
a rash of squares and 
triangles cascades towards
a yellow egg. On this
a skeleton is etched. But look 
again. The white bones 
form a face - and not
what we had thought. So quick
ly now, before his thick black zig-
zag - like chain saw's teeth -
obliterates 
the features scratched there
with such care.
Above the scene, a net. Below
a dense criss
cross of railway lines. All this:
the alpha
bet and syntax of
his lone attempt
to reach our minds with his.
Today
a cut and thrust of cut
and pasted cross
word bits filled in with
signs and symbols, al
ong with pictures from
his book of trains.
Prefix and suffix to his
private words, are
special clues he keeps
for those he trusts.

Another time 
he shows his jig
saw skills. Assembles
a large puzzle -
upside down he'll say,
but means inverted - picture
to the floor - then picks,
unerringly a piece which is
a further clue - an eye - could we
but understand. He studies us
to see if we can tell... gives up
and shows instead
a photograph. Himself in
football gear. He holds
a cup - and from each face,
that rarest of all things:
a smile.
..................................

Written in response to Victoria Slotto's rich selection of prompts, Steampunk and Enjambment - but there's more than this on offer - at dVerse Poets Pub. Go see, why don't you?

I chose to work with enjambment and to write again about a boy who was the subject of a post almost exactly four years ago. You can read it here.