You set up the board, chequered and chaste,
not a piece out of line, not a piece missed.
But you don’t face me. You run
after your turn
every time.
No time constraints, you take
forever to move. I’m itching and scratching
the sides of the board. The king
watches, helpless. He must play the game
for his life depends on it,
but you care little
your moves are haphazard, like a roadroller
you roll over the board.
The knight moves towards you
But you move away.
Knight to B4, check,
I’ll accept the pawns, they’re beautiful too,
pawns that guard the gates to you,
gates by all means I mean to wreck.
When will the queen take my rook
and my chequered, throbbing libation too?
You’re playing so slow yet you can’t see
I’m letting you win
I don’t play to win, I don’t want to play
I let the queen take my knight, D3
you set the board but don’t finish the game.
Seasons change and your moves are the same
I anticipate them, I’m that good
yet you play your turn, knowingly
every time.
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