At Chess Camp Picking Up My Daughter

It feels warm
and safe inside the dark church
full of rushing
winners, slow walking
losers. And the parents
less rumpled than me
who sit in the back
resting their legs.
The boy who does cartwheels
all the way to the altar
has won fourth place
in the beginners
group.

The kids are rushing out now
into the fog
like a scattering of pigeons.
They smile at me
as if I were
one of the strong pieces.
Perhaps tonight
the pain that keeps me
away from the living
will corner the Black Queen.