II. A Game of Chess

tear down the walls and eat

sandwiches in the corner store

discard the actor’s feel and look and sit in my chair

for me

take your legs and run them down the

sides of the bed like you’ve been here before, the press is close

enveloping the moon from all sides there is numbness and clutching

scraping marble and calls for fallen horses

the sobbing fingers move closer like lumbering giants

pressing reckless luck into faux fur rushing into the chests

meeting the god’s pearls

and pushing the memories from stuck hippocampus,

back, back, back in the clashing lights

the dimness crushes my skull

the answer is

cross legged in my parent’s armchair

centering the room in the corner

queen-bold and ivory as

the midwest

storms back into my sheets.



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