Two kings do battle on the chessboard where
The fair one steels to calm his heart that beats
From fevered passion. For without the leash
He forged in military drill, he’d swear
Aloud, enfolding his love’s height and breadth,
Then combing fingers gently through red waves
And rubbing lips across a jaw unshaved,
And running hands down skin into moist cleft.
When “Checkmate” rents his vision and eyes lift,
He drinks in waters bluer than the sea,
His thirst ne’er quenched, his prick swollen with need.
With passion soul and body he would gift;
For prisoner’s soul and body he’s no key,
So scanning battlefield he quips, “Indeed.”