The Game by Jonathon Snyder

Chess. Checkerboard.

Nothing like it - it’s as old as

“Your majesty” who reaches just

For the timer for “check” - I check my defense.

Remembering David, I attack the Goliath ahead of me

Knowing that the sling I have has no stone. The “L” is gone

The rook in the corner. It’s like a mouse about to be

Snatched by a cat. Soldiers crowd and smother my queen

As the joust takes out the king mercilessly and with a kick.

But where did it come from?

Chess.

Checkerboard gone. I reach for his hand.

But he does not receive it. Too proper.

From times prehistoric the war has been - still

I can’t conquer the ancient beast. Remembering,

The ancient goliath smelled funny, but I can’t speak

Because the sling hit my eyes. I should’ve looked.

He calls it a watchtower - keep a wary lookout

for pawns on the move. But I, a rookie,

Think it should be liking to a flow -

Why watch or have a plan?

Goliath mutters something about

Chess being like a clock:

The second hand moves

Before the minute hand

And the hour hand is

Always there.

Chess. Checkerboard.

This object called “game”

Clutches me in its lithe hands and shakes.

Get a hold of yourself. I ask for a rematch.

That’s the spirit. How can I refuse?