Game Consolidation

Game Consolidation

Duck, duck, goose, heads down
on desks, lights off. Games
need the dark, a blindfold,
fingers over closed eyelids.
Sit in blue plastic chairs,
hold your neighbors’ hands,
wait to feel if you get tapped
on the scalp or neck or arm.
The stray rubber ball that
slaps your calf signals you
are out, but do not leave. 
From across the room,
a woman shouts, Never have
I ever left this country,
drink if you have, from
the dixie cup in the upper
righthand corner of your desk.
Keep asking questions of
your neighbors about who
you are, yes or no questions.
No, you are not a famous athlete.
No, you are not a politician.
Yes, you know your own name.
The room is not encased in
a giant beach ball, but the
ceiling is a parachute. Around
the periphery, hands clutching
the edge, tugging, One, two,
three, pull! You feel the room
sliding forward, but don’t let go.