At last, here so fast
Having been slow to come
Calling to me, “Play.”
Pressing, marking
Black on my soul.
A robe and worn shoe
And his last half-read book
Lie upon my floor.
Scattered pieces
Frozen in peace.
Each turn upon turn
White queen to her knight dead
Along the checkered
Slow rotting board
Looming, askew.
Finish line stretches
Into abyss of pain.
It goes and it goes.
A bitter end
That time will find.
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