A Game Of Chess Poem by Onyi Ogwumike

I lost my pen cap.
And as unhindered as my breath,
The words spilled as a fountain of black Night
From the exposed lips of Papermate Write Bros. M
But no,
Seriously.
I lost my pen cap.
Sure the beauty flows now,
But soon
When mortality seizes hold of my wrists,
When the flicks of my brief thoughts and my fleeting grasp on reason fades
I’ll have to stop.
And laying idle,
Driven to grief by lack of use,
Papermate Write Bros. M
Dries up.
Taking part in a dance as part of Life as Living her damn self
Death.
Her eyes deep silver pools of faded
Moonbeams,
She dances, feet quick and jumping
Through the masses.
At times,
She would stop and look and seeing
The curiosity growing in my irises,
She’d flash me a smile and wink.
Then off again to trouble souls with her seducing escapes.
At times,
She would visit her sisters and
Throw her head up in a strong-chested laugh.
Life would look at her with a sweet smile in her eyes and say
“Sister I have a few more for you”
They play a game of chess and discuss the
Lives ready for Death,
I wonder if anyone ever asked the masses how they felt
About being on this grand board?
Pawns and Knights and Rooks and such.
I was never that great at chess