- a childhood memoir -
Not speaking, but attended
by a hissing, popping spirit-lamp,
the bruising impact on its glass
of velvet, half-demented moths,
we'd sit across the chequered board,
my father playing black; I - white,
queen for bishop, pawn for rook,
late into the tropic night.
Uncomprehending, bleary-eyed,
I'd watch the pieces moved aside,
too drowsy to anticipate
my chevalier's untimely fate.
My father, vigilant, would wait
until I'd noticed my mistake,
then, mock-apologetic, he'd
enunciate the word: "Checkmate."
*
Half-waking from a troubled sleep,
reprising long-lost tournaments,
fool's gambits, traumatising games,
I hear his "Look before you leap!"
In check
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2005
Свидетельство о публикации №105092000271
Свидетельство о публикации №105092000271
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