The head in the sack
You brought
Distracts me from my game
Can't not imagine
Its lifeless gaze
Of displacement
I know it's not human
Anymore
But animation souvenirs
May linger over the immobile
Clump of its "features"
When I serve
Its dissembled presence
Intercedes between the toss
And contact
And looms up in my mind's eye
In the brief interlude
That the ball hangs over my head
No longer rising
Not falling yet
What prompted you to bring it here?
Now I can't get rid of it.
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