Filed under: Poetry, Writing | Tags: chess, love, love poem, poem, Poetry, taking things slow
i’ve come to understand what you meant
when you said you didn’t want to know me too well.
you cherished the half-shadowed corners of a smile,
the echo of a glance, the ripple of a whisper on midnight
air, the certain dance of hands under blankets, the
soundless language of lips, and the eloquence with which
we spoke it
you didn’t want to turn on the house lights.
but you see, i was never much good at chess. all those
black and white pawns always intimidated me.
they were peaceful strangers at first. then,
all hell breaks loose. next thing you know the
white queen is banging the kingside bishop,
the black king comes out as gay, and an anonymous
rook goes into suicidal depresion. At least,
that’s the way I played it. It was all impulses and
urges. My knights rode on spurs of the moment.
I played careless and never thought out moves ahead.
I’d risk it all for a mate. Hell. I still do. You see,
I never learnt to check myself. I believe that doesn’t
get you anywhere either. But I understand what you
about the dance.
I want to wait for all the right moments to dip and twirl
you. I want the tempo real slow, at one beat per minute,
so I can dance you a good long while,
until the music fades to silence
and the house lights have dimmed on
and the game is long over
we won’t know it at all.
playing chess with the lights off by Alberto Cristoffanini is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
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