................The Pool Game Poem by elysabeth faslund

First draft only....prose poem....
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To the West, I looked.
Free-falling backwards, down.
Like Ripley into the furnace, clutching an alien
Horror...destruction. Death.
Violet petal soft falling. No pain. Slow motion.
No impact. Peaceful.

'Girl, get off my pool table, ' my Daddy, smiling,
Chalking the cue tip. 'You want to play? '
'But you're...'
Clean break,11 balls scattered over the table green.
'Only if you think of me like that.'
Banked nine off five into the side.
'I can't beat you. Never could.'
Long cushion seven...back corner.
'Why is my daughter here? Now? '
Ball after ball, pocketed.
'I was falling, like a real dream...where is this? '
'Want a beer? ' Daddy's ice blue eyes were the same.
'Then I'll beat you! I'll take six! '
'Nope. You're going home.' Soft authority, so loved.
'No, Dad, no. I want to be with you.'
'Nope. A while yet. Where's your spunk? Fight! '

To the West, I looked. Daddy frowned.
I grabbed his cue, called, and sank the eight.
'I win, Daddy! '
'You're starting to. Now. Go home. I'll be here.'

To the East, I looked.
Towards the rising Sun.