Come, I say
but she hangs back
curling herself to a ball.
Up the steps.
Two than four.
I'm waiting.
She falls to the ground.
Screams, You come to ME!
as I walk forward
hoping she'll be behind me
in a game of chicken
I will always lose
because I can't leave
and her screams
could tumble a tower
Where's Mommy, asks each passerby
Mommy is here, I grit
Mommy is waiting
Knowing I should be grateful
they care. Wishing
they were elsewhere.
I'm waiting, I say
in our daily disemboweling
tug of war
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