Chess Game with Clare
written by: Lori Marchesin
For My Sister
Mosquitos settle on my eyebrows;
I brush them away. Your violet glance
entangles my thoughts; I mutter
how to move knights.
The wind lashes tall grass,
carries the tinkling of silver bells.
Your eyes lower to the board and calculate, —
pale fingers tap at the wooden queen
– Dead!- You whisper-
– I’ll be dead before I can listen to last
cicadas as they sing their tymbal tunes –
Your dilated pupils choke violet.
Darkness grows and hides my shivers.
– Lancers are useless, no chance for pawns
No chance for me –
Your nails tap on wood.
– Good move! The queen is done.
No more games to play-
Aged stars fall into the pond;
pain sneaks through my chest and bites,
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