Checkmate


I try to parley her into a flirt,
claim her queen with my knight,
will my King into her corner.

Married, her boss,
I don't dare move my pawn first.

But those teacup shaped breasts,
her unholy brown eyes undo me.

Faithful to the sea
and the man who sails with her,
she still flirts with others,
swings her sweet hips.

Whenever I'm near, she pulls
into a shell, averts her eyes.

She's tempted.
She thinks I don't know it.

Sometimes  fear clouds her eyes
when she glances at the gray in my hair
or hands inadvertently closing 
to fists when stressed.

A shrink, I could offer a healing
session as my approach strategy.

Best not.
I just want to fuck her
until I can forget her.

So, I breathe desire into the air,
hope she'll wrap her legs around my waist,
prostrate herself ,'til I'm spent,
on our unspoken checkmate of lust.

Pris Campbell
(c)2011

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