Thirteen
The pins don't know they're metaphors.
They stand because they were set there
and fall because a heavy thing
arrived.
You wore your new shoes.
You picked the blue ball, the heaviest
you could carry, because you are done
with what you can carry.
I watched from the scoring table
where the math was easyโ
spares and strikes, the way absence
counts more than presence.
Outside, September did
what September does:
held the light one second longer
than anyone asked.