Game of Tag by Ciree

When I try, all I can recall is running children

The same age as I am but they are

Playing exhausting games outside

And I’m at the window watching whenever they go.

At first they are one giant land—Pangea

Then an abnormal cell division: one

Becomes two, then four, then five

Cast one out and five becomes one team

The casted one was chasing everyone

Like Antarctic wind, he freezes anything

Where his hand laid upon. One down,

Then two, three, four, and one last boy.

They are chasing each other— a Cheetah

To Zebra, running in circle, dress tight

In the shape of their bodies and patches

Of sweats like lands on a globe.

I watch closely to see who’s going to win:

The last boy running approaches the frozen

Teammate, he missed touching it—

a tangent line in Cartesian plane

He tried again to the nearest unmoving body

While he is being chase, I saw a cherishing

Moment— Apostles' eyes in face of God—

The warm touch makes him human again.

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“Game of tag is one of the poems I wrote in 2020. I always felt insecure because I'm sort of a late bloomer when it comes to writing. 2020 is the year I first write poetry at the age of 20. All of the writer's interviews that I watch, especially those who I considered as heroes, started when they were young (around 9). And so I felt isolated and you know … late for the party. When reading this poem it feels like I can't put the right words to it. I wanted the reader to have the impression of touch being a reminder of being alive, or to seek another person blah blah blah and I can't make it to that. I put this poem down and avoided it for 2 years.”

Ciree is a poet based in the Philippines. His writing has appeared in the third issue of The Skrew Syndication, the Backwards Trajectory, and in the upcoming Autumn anthology of Sunday Mornings at the River.