Game With A Queen Poem by Norman F. Santos

Exigent hands quaver with every piece and every move
Trepidation burns by the wrists and incinerates to approve
Taking leisure with the melody of the clacking marble board
Draining the chance in every silence, a scheme averting discord
A piece sent to the fore; one blind consoling assault
And a thousand fold behind; the corollaries’ retort
The head of my pawns unabashedly roll on thy feet
Giving the sanctuary away but seizing through from defeat
A king not philanthropic, but defamed by a flimsy wreak
Of a lifelong war against the juxtaposed throne of golden bleak
Swords unsheathed, hearts on the sleeve; a heedless surrender
Vicissitude lapsed flailing with the knight of hope caped with forever
The erstwhile havoc brought life, and death, to a greater turmoil
An anticipated ally, an astonishing enemy, swords melted in recoil
To the opposing queen who fought for a convicted crown’s abduction
If the king would meet thy grandeur in the front line, would there be vindication?
False hope akin to all hope, behead me for I will resurrect
How many times have I surmised and defeated whimsy death?