Poem by Gareth Culshaw


 

The Chess Cyclist

We played chess together.
He was a loner, and a cyclist
who wore shorts all summer.

We use to sit on kerbs, or hot
tarmac in the holidays. Our moves
kept us away from the usual.

He told me he had heard
his mother’s last breath.
Heard it slide down her throat.

I thought of it as the last touch
of wind that closes in a wood.
He had a brother, but never

bothered with him. His father
was what came from a dog’s
behind. So we played chess.

Trying our own way of sorting
things out. Seeing what happens
when you lose a queen, and ignore a king.

 

Gareth Culshaw lives in Wales. He has his first collection in 2018 by futurecycle. And he is encouraged by his best friend, his collie, Jasper.

Luis Lázaro Tijerina was born in Salina, Kansas. Mr. Tijerina has a Master of Art degree in history, concentration being military history and diplomacy. He is a published author of military theory, short stories, essays and poetry. Mr. Tijerina resides in Vermont.

 

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