Crack

By brian francis

Some people think it is all about the ball
the cue ball or the eight ball even the nine
while the ball is pool’s most numerous asset
it simply follows nature’s laws to exhaustion
It lays, it waits to receive its equal and opposite
its course laid in with a knock and a ricochet
it travels its path friction wearing it down
its trajectory always forward always true
So what is so special about all of that
What makes it so much better than felt


Felt’s hairy fingers grab and pull at the ball
slowing it, dragging at its progression
the field of felt, slates concealing dress
and bumpers wear felt its armor it seems
enduring even the severest of blows
without offering the merest contention
brushed just right it’s a beautiful thing
ordered, cleaned of the smallest deceit
a racks ready order, rolled to find the spot
to rise up and stand back for the break


A chalking in blue to add grip to the tip
and a sliding almost masturbation
angle selected the cue ball finds its spot
and rests waiting for its final direction
the cue lays itself in the crook of the hand
or on the crenellation of the knuckles
and engaging the stroke with precision
its strength with a crack strikes a blow
its goal in its sights it flies straight and true
into the rack, causing a mess of confusion

Copyright © 2021 brian francis