Red and Black Days

Sometimes they would gather at the table,
the woman and the boy and the man
whose cheer lately had come to stay
along with the royal possibilities

a day of checkers afforded.
Crown me! the boy would say.
Kings and kings and kings.
The boy moved them forward

and back in space and time,
and sideways, and snake-like, and
like hopscotch and gazelles.
A little red fiefdom of his own design

with a side street for the underlings
to dwell in. The pauper population
growing, cheering! Tossing up
their thin black caps!

Copyright © 2004 Robin Behn All rights reserved
from The Journal
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission