On Chess

5/31/11

On Chess

Tiny pawns storm forth

To the center

With flat boots

And armor white,

The black knight jumps overhead,

Rushing to the opposition,

His hooves stomping flat

Across the board,

The bishop weaves his path between the pawns,

Eyeing the prey from a distance –

 Sly, sly bishop,

Sliding like a snake through the lines.

 The war begins,

And the pawn’s muffled scream

Is not heard in the game,

But in our minds,

The rooks swing their aim left and right,

Protectors of the King,

The sacred King,

And the Queen dominates the field

With her lance.

A slight mistake,

And the chain breaks,

The rook is forked,

The castle falls,

And crumbles,

And none of this is heard.