RELATIONSHIP Poem: TAG, by Tracey Dean Widelitz

Golden pig tails bouncing up
and down, giggling playing
tag, running—>>>corn fields—whack
he>tags me:) I’m it.

Prom corsage pinned
to my heart,
black tipped and
blue as his>eyes,
his>crooked smile;/
I cannot resist.
Tag:| I’m it.

Groundhog Day:(
breakfast – exactly at 0600 hrs.
lunches – packed
grocery
laundry
carpool – 0200 hrs.
dinner – precisely at 1800 hrs.

A dummy going through life,
with myhand up my ass.

Painting on my daily mask,
camouflaging my once beloved
corsage of chosen color,
that now permanently
adorns my reflection.

That crooked smile;/
had once birthed buoyant butterflies,
now breeds deadly hornets—stung.

His>voice deep, hoarse and
quivering with rage—
the paint drops from my
puppet hands,
Dinner… it’s 1805 hrs–

—whack;/ Lights Out—Wake Up—dummy.
Gasping for air,
golden pig tails tousled with sweat,
I awake from my freakishly surreal never-
ending nightmare.

Was this a prelude, fore tale, or
my guardian angel?
I>chose to listen,
I>didn’t play tag that day.