5.11.2019

When Your Head Strikes a Pool Table


The baize will be soft
against your cheek
while the rail jabs
like to break your neck

You’ll wonder
are those stars in your eyes
or sights
as #2 blue fades to black

You’ll consider the texture
and velocity of wood
shaped as sticks
and spheres and tables

Two things will come clear
you’ll forever tug at your jeans
and blue
is no longer blue


For Just One Word in the Imaginary Garden: APART