Two kings do battle on the chessboard where

The fair one steels to calm his heart that beats

From fevered passion. For without the leash

He forged in military drill, he’d swear

Aloud, enfolding his love’s height and breadth,

Then combing fingers gently through red waves

And rubbing lips across a jaw unshaved,

And running hands down skin into moist cleft.

When “Checkmate” rents his vision and eyes lift,

He drinks in waters bluer than the sea,

His thirst ne’er quenched, his prick swollen with seed.

With passion soul and body he would gift;

For prisoner’s soul and body he’s no key,

So scanning battlefield he quips, “Indeed.”