Checkmate

A smoke and ivory waltz

The queen bites her lips to blood

Smearing cheeks of pawns with vermillion stains

My gray brain of rain and snow strips its weathered marble walls

To dream in your strands of rose and gold

To taste your tinny lips and wash in your skin of milky moon

A rook you mistook for a king

To be close enough but without angle

A lusting juxtaposition

If I a king and you a queen

Our game will mate and death you’ll bring

A kiss, a bite, a cheek of blood

A momentary lapse in lungs

Stain me now, my queen, my love

Checkmate

 

Joshua Tool – 10/09/12

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