twenty-eight
twenty-nine
twenty…
a confused pause, a quick conference
with a deeper voice—
thirty,
and i crouch behind the brown chair,
head bowed but neck turned, eyes wide on the place
where she will appear.
my whole life, i have hated this part, the
breathless silence after the counting, the
frantic beating in the brain, the stalking,
swishing tip-toe of socks, the pouncing,
never-knowing-when—the
unpredictable inevitable.
but the way we play
there is no breakneck dash for home.
whenever she finds me, curled up and twisted,
i am calm, my heart locked in its place,
beating a glad, redemptive rhythm.
4 Responses to “it’s how you play the game”
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Asides
» I have been remiss in posting SBJ’s latest stats: 23 pounds and 27 inches at six months. Yes, I’ve got the big mama biceps.
» Aaaaaand little she-who-is lost another tooth this week!
» SBJ is four months old, 19 pounds 5 ounces, and 26 inches tall. GIGANTOR!

This poem hits me at a time when real life is feeling like this too — those don’t-know-what’s-happening-next moments. Good friend seems to be hurling towards the end of life with cancer. Ugh. I hate this part too.
A lurker here . . .found your blog through Andy Acton’s and loved this poem. You descibe precisely how I have always felt about hide-and-seek. the “unpredictable inevitable” . . .yes, exactly. if only all such moments could end as the one you describe.
Hide and go seek has always freaked me out, kind of. I think it’s a pretty scary game really, no matter which end you’re on.
Allie allie in come free (is that how you say/spell it)?
I played that so much as a child!