The One Poem by Lauren Gamble

One green table.
Six pockets around the edges.

Fifteen balls within a triangle:
Seven plain,
Seven striped,
One all-powerful, their leader.
Fifteen, all, numbered.





One ball, set apart.
One alone.
One unnumbered.





One set in motion.
One showing the rest how to be free.
One daring to express its own individuality.

In one movement,
The fifteen scatter, and stumble about.
Two fall,
Three try to keep conformity, while
Three others try to knock them down.
Seven others have stopped to watch.

The game continues.
One unnumbered has become the leader.
Ever influencing,
Ever moving,
Ever changing.

One by one,
The fifteen fall.
Until only two remain.

One numbered.
One unnumbered.
Face off.

Number eight, the old leader, waits for confrontation.
The unnumbered moves for the last time.
Number eight falls.

The game is over.
The table waits for another game.
Hoping
Hoping for something different,
But nothing ever changes.

The table is set.
The cue ball, ready.
The fifteen, waiting.

The table sits.
The cue ball moves.
The fifteen huddle.
And the game starts again.

The cue ball,
Always the first to move.
Always the one to upset the group, and
Always
Always
Always
Always the one who follows the rules.

Who’s conforming?