Chessplayers, the Queen
rampant on a King's file,
at the rank, one but last,
defence goes
desperate
and me I say 'mmm'
and 'nice move'
and sudden a face
explodes into mine, with
a you this you that
and useless this you don't know
what you're talking
about ( me? what saying?)
and the black rook
discovers furniture, its crevices,
and a pawn falls
onto carpetry, patterns,
like a thought
(we can't spot it)
on form and aesthetics
and Yes I say to me, this is
fear, this is that, that unexpected, this
is primitive couplets,
triplets, singletons, more. ....
and too is Leicester,
about half past the seventh hour
of the night that is Wednesday's.
David Bircumshaw
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