One-Sided Tickle War

My step-grandfather used to

chase me up the deteriorated, splinter-frosted stairs.

My feet would pump faster than a dog’s tail wags

but I’d get tangled in a clump of shadows

and he, dewy with sweat,

would tickle me until my bones

were beads in a maraca,

thinking I liked it because

I laughed.

This poem was written for the We Write Poems prompt Happy New Year. 


16 thoughts on “One-Sided Tickle War

  1. Ack! I read your last two lines and remembered how sensitive I am in the sensory department. I can only stand tickling for short periods of time. What really impressed me is your metaphor for bones shaking – “until my bones were like beads in a maraca” – evoking both sound and feeling,


  2. Your descriptions are so wonderful “splinter-frosted stairs” “faster than a dog’s tail wags” “tangled in a clump of shadows” “beads in a maraca”… I’m envious. Marvelous job with this poem!

    I also hate to be tickled esp… to me it is a kind of abuse when it goes on just take little too long. (DebiSwim)

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