The Last Move
by Marilyn Braendeholm
My mother had a weightless ease about her;
my father well grounded.
He was wordlessly quiet, a revolution
of important thoughts.
Strategy being his favourite, chess
by choice, and he always won.
Mom said games were for bullies –
I never understood until Dad lost.
He lost his quiet to an unshaven man
with a hole in his shoe.
Dad never played chess again, but Mom
remained weightless as any breeze.
Marilyn (Misky) Braendeholm lives in the UK surrounded by flowers, grapevines, bubbling pots of sourdough starter, and always keeps dog biscuits in her pocket for her blind Springer Spaniel. She never buys clothing without pockets. Her work is widely published.