terrypetersen

Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves. (Carl Gustav Jung)

THE PAWN

A young man props open the door
to his screened-in porch
as a robin, wild, wings flapping, dives
into the wire mesh walls.
The man gestures toward the exit
and mutters about how creatures,
two-legged or flying,
refuse to be rescued.

He locks the door to his house
and leaves the screen door open, 
then crosses the street
to learn the tricks of chess
from an elderly neighbor.

The older man offers him a seat
at his kitchen table,
where a set of yellowed-white 
and chipped-black game pieces 
wait on a well-worn board.

The master’s game is sharp.
As he plays, he speaks
of his sons and daughters
and their plans for him
to move to a nursing home,
the place the old man 
calls incontinence hell.

He describes shirts with elbows bared,
gifts from his deceased wife,
removed without his permission,
She lives in those shreds. 

The young man tries to follow both
his teacher’s stories 
and his advice about the game
until the old man shakes his head.

Because you are learning I will let you
try that move again.
But the student sees 
only worn-black and dull-white wood,
 perfect squares with impenetrable borders.

Checkmate. 

The old man shows no sign of triumph.
He resets the board.
The young man nods, silent,
wondering if the robin
found passage—or not.  



pic made from public domain drawing, cut paper, and pastels

poem previously published in For a Better World 2014

Read Full Post »