The chair she sat in, was no chair at all.
Her own face glowing on the carpet’s contours, where her hands
Held up by standards wrought with my own hands
Doubled the light reaching from the fixture
to my twisted, internally suspended transistor
Being my inner projections
Of this minds sickly infection
That began to eat me alive
But perhaps to each his own reflection
Reflecting light upon life’s table
Bouncing off the walls
The glitter of her eyes rose to meet it,
To the ground my pride might fall
Pouring all that was left,
Watching it trickle down fast.
Into the vials, beakers of broken glass
There is nothing, no one left accused,
Somehow it hits harder,
Sitting there so confused.
I held down my sense of sorrow
Drowned by it, I feel the seams tear.
The logic of all this left me eluded.
I was doing my best to have honestly concluded
The game is only half finished! Press your timed moment
Feeling the moment slipping.
Fighting to clasp it and hold it
Inching up closer, I smelled your hair.
As I fought every instinct, to reject my inner care
Lunging at this injustice of forfeit wasn’t fair
But that’s what was to happen there
I’m looking at this game through a window
Feeling my face grow flush
This move was not spoken of
Or thought of very much.
Here I was, feeling things I’d lost
But this game was such a challenge
I never calculated costs
Your whispers of the next play were playing in my ears
On repeat, as if to render and digest all my own fears
Of the loss of this game I actually learned to love
But then push came to shove
We lost track of our places.
A voice raises.
Where is your ROOK?
WHERE IS MY QUEEN?
I almost wish to miss the signs,
The gaps left in between.
And then we stare at the board.
Consumed by our words.
I start to whistle and sit terribly still.
I’m a wreck. I can’t even see where my last pawn went.
--Stay with me. Speak to me.
I'm not the best with words.
--Why wont you talk to me?
Haven't we gone over this?
--What are you thinking? I don't know what you're thinking.
You linder in my nose again.
--Did you hear that?
My cardiovascular system pulsating on the floor?
--Do you know? Do you see? Do you remember?
I remember. Those are pearls that were my eyes.
--This is just not the time.
Perhaps.
You like the way I write about you?
It’s so elegant,
So intelligent.
What the will I do? What the about tomorrow?
I have a show to play at ten.
If the sky decides to rain, I know your car door will be locked at 5.
But its perfect to play a game of chess in the rain. Or rather, when it’s raining.
My eyes are forced open. There is no other than the raven at my chamber door.
A fool in love never more.
A sonnet for tomorrow
For my only known Lenore.
Copyright © Jimena Zavaleta 2012
