Two oldtimers playing chess on a Central Park bench in New York City, May 1946. National Archives — public domain
toting their armies in a box
the old men go to claim their turf
their pace a little slower every day
with every step their heels more calloused
their bones more brittle
yet ready to do battle
as they spread their field
of black and white
on their bench by the ancient sycamore
and huddled in a cloud of camphor
to keep the moths and time at bay
and too much Kölnisch Wasser
to hide the fusty odour of old age
they puppeteer
their kings and queens and pawns
across the squares
the jesters always missing
but bishops present to please god
because these battles are no joke
and god upholds their cause
and from time to time
they’ll pause to gawk
as youth blades by
skates by
runs by
and waves
goodbye