Assessing the Enemy

I hadn’t played in a long time and neither
had he. We set up the pieces, both fast
and at peace with this part of the battle.
I arranged my ranks in precisely the right
way, and so did he, I noticed. So here
we met on an even field as men with deep
hollows of mystery in our hands that may
house any history we might imagine.
A man with a sword on his lap may stand
and dance with it like it was charmed by God.
He may lift it in a painful grip with
the wrong fingers and put it clumsily
aside. But in his lap, it is both.

There with both sides ranked and facing,
we watched the others hands and waited
to see what kind of spark would move
from those fingers into the dead pawns’ heads.