Poem: Old Men Playing Draughts
By: Neil Leadbeater
Black plays first.
They want to wipe each other out
or lock their opponent into a position
from which they cannot move.
The old still harbour ambition –
if they could just acquire
the agility of youth
they could leapfrog over counters
but by repeatedly moving their pieces
one square at a time
they get by…
“even the snail, it has to be said,
finally reached the Ark.”