Little James, Changeling Child

My cousin screams his bloodful displeasure
The textures rake his skin
The noises break his ears

My aunt and uncle coax him into boy scouts
And little league, summer camp for audio-integration,
Have him tested for every possible disorder
Still he wails, bites, kicks, and spits

That baby with sweet almond eyes,
Who smiled and drooled as any baby should,
Was replaced in the night by a child
Who cannot speak to the world,
A boy of violent inclinations

He eats but rarely
Shoves his sister into walls
Shrinks from thunder as though it were iron

The other children call him freak and idiot
If not for their Roman Catholic upbringing,
They would call him changeling
If not for the teachers' watchful eyes
They would do him worse
Run him through with lead pencils
Strike matches along the walls of the gym
And light his shirttails
To see if he gives himself away as a monstercreature

My aunt and uncle, throats raw from yelling,
Eyes sore from crying, sigh into the relieving moments
When their undersized and battering son sleeps,
Twichily dreaming of the other worlds to which he belongs