One square
poised on the board
unimportant, overlooked
by Bishop's blessing
and Knight's March.
As Queen's cut circles
round lost rice fields,
the rain runs clear
off curved, stone tiles.
The luckiest children
play here in exile
barefoot in pure mud
or asleep on woven reeds
their moments unfettered,
ruleless; unlimited
on an island of green
in a monochrome sea.
Here, they rest.
The peace of pawns
who never learned to play.

I looked at you

I looked at you
Like I look at rain in summer,
Like fresh-brewed coffee,
Pressed thick in winter’s hunger.
Playing chess on a ruleless board—
Close the doors—ignore the mess.

I looked at you, like I watched
The sunrises on Australia’s east coast, back then—
Too soon to be awake,
Till my eyes grew tired,
Shame aching my lashes.
Stay open. Stay open.

“Wounds close in time,” they said.
They said—I meant—I meant—
But my lids bent slowly,
Asleep by noon, covered
In blankets of ash.
Power-napping us
Into coma, into dust.

I tried, I tried—
But if love isn’t born as a phoenix,
It’s only gold-plated, fading into rust.

I looked at you.
You did not. You did not.
I’m sorry—you’re not.