Poetry TAG...

Here's how it goes... I'm writing a poem and calling it "Tag, you're it!"


That's the name of the game. In the poem, I'll link to (and hence mention) another poet by name. Then, if anyone is reading and/or interested, that poet will also write a Tag poem, mentioning/linking another poet... the poems don't really have to be great, though that would rock! They do have to be called TAG, in some form or fashion...


TAG, You're It! ( a challenge)


When I was seven, I didn't have asthma. but I pretended.
Mainly with John-John, the retarded boy from Charter Oak
bearing down on me, the slowest girl in town. For shame!


Usually near a big tree, with knees bleeding,
mud on the ass, braids falling out. A rock in my shoe.
Lord, I tried, but I was slower than the slow boy.


And so, winded, I always quit, little hand to pink T-shirt.
Cramped, hunched, I ruined the game. The kids groaned.
My mother had asthma. She never helped rake or shovel.


You would have quit too, I bet. Afflicted by slowness,
and the neighborhood retard. With the other girls watching,
over there, by the big red azalea. Shanna giggled first.


You would have blamed your mother too. Gone inside
for a popsicle, where someone understood. Slowly,
your breathing would have calmed itself. "So what. "


Eventually, John-John raped a girl, got sent away.
I smoked and developed asthma. Got an inhaler.
It's nice when everything works out in the end.