corner pocket
8 ball
pot black
decides the win
or lose
blue chalk the cue
kiss the dusty finger tips
the lips smile back at you,
read, wet, glistening -
ivories like dice,
behind them
words peppered
from the tongue
thrown black,
blue stardust outside
the straight lines
for a little while,
sparkling
like a photograph
8 ball
pot black
decides the win
carries 7
losers win
she grins
and says
corner pocket;
you lean in
Candide Diderot. ‘24
warm sound.
0-7
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