Child

[heslopian]

I'm aware that I use the adjective "beautiful" a little too liberally when describing poems I love, so lest the word becomes defunct in my reviews from overuse, I'll avoid it here.
This poem is astonishing; I'm not sure if it's meant to be taken literally (if the stranger and the mattress are real, or allegorical) but somehow that doesn't matter. The emotions related here are so pure, so honest and painful and (dare I say it?) "real," that even the most hardened cynic will be moved (at least in my opinion).

Normally I'd wait a little while longer, but because this is my first personal poem, I'll post it now. Thank you all in advance for your valuable criticism.

There’s a game of hide-and-seek going on.
It’s been fifteen years, and wouldn’t you guess it-
They still haven’t found the child. Excellent end to this stanza. Darkly witty and menacing.

He is curled up under a mattress
In the empty home of a stranger
Who no longer lives there.

Every night, the stranger visits him I think a comma would be useful here.
Hovering above the bare bed like a spectre Would simply "his bed" work a wee bit better than "the bare bed"? The adjective bare isn't really needed (IMHO).
Telling him not to come out, that it’s not safe yet.

That if he emerges, they’ll drag him into the bushes
And beat him. That there’s nothing secure about discovery
That if he wants to be found, he deserves what comes next. This verse reminds me of an ad I once saw for a children's charity, where a scared little boy pulls a blanket over himself lest his attacker return. Scary and effective.

The stranger is old, with a dark, featureless face
And a body formed entirely of silver smoke. Love that idea of a being composed entirely of smoke, and the adjective "silver" works well.
Sometimes, he asks the child if he remembers.

But the child just lays there-
Like a stem with its petals plucked
Before they could even bloom. This is technically cliche, but somehow it works.