There is a shadow world in the pendulum
swing of her arms when her weathered fingers
release the sand bags
Pocket: 200
the hole is a universe deep
and she is falling down fracturing
her bones like a glass maze cracking down to
dust always on the floor
Pocket: 100
the hole is dark midnight
and a bald stranger in her bed
wipes her tears says if she waters
her hazelnuts trees will grow
out of her head
Pocket: 0
she misses the board
her fingers recall
his chest with hair thick like moss the length
of him she cups the sand bag just so
smiles knowingly not remembering
why exactly
Pocket: 500
the hole is light shining
off the scissors with which she says
she cut your hair as you slept
to make you pay for the curls
she never had
Pocket: 500
the hole is six feet deep
her sister asked to be buried whole
and not burned to keep the curls she mocked her
for and her husband held her hand so cold
and he is cold on the bed
they should loosen his collar
to let him breathe to let him breathe
please let him breathe
Pocket: 500
the hole is an open mouth
and her tongue throws words
like sand bags like wayward spells
at times so precise they make you
forget yourself everything