Games and Colloquations

I wish I could see
In the game we play
The diagrams the pieces trace
The judiciary of love
But

The truth is:

Cool water
Dissolving crusted sweat
The fumes
That put the heady into head
Your speachcraft
That outstrips mine
And
The lie of the land
And the constellations of stars

And the plays you make
Transcribed in ink but
Better left unsaid

Love's rulebook is broad
And attracts the dust
And love
Rears up on its hindlegs

If the rising of the sun
Or going down of the same
Myopic eyes don't tell
But the middlegame,
Strategy bereft,
We've almost played out to a close

If romance sups with us
Or politely tips his hat
We'll doggedly
Go on punching the timeclock
Collecting the delicate phrasings

That so delight your lips
Or I spend all night sleepless dreaming up
Coughing on the dust of your tracks

Fata Morgana
Says I'm catching up
Brought at last to Crocker Land
But the stern look of the justice
Agéd but not infirm
Suggests it's time for closing up

And my council has his pedigree
Though yours sips brandy with ghosts
And stalemate is just a word
As you finger your ivory piece

The truth is
The grim trickle of beverage
Is mapping out my head
And slumber could be a move away
And loss a twitch
On the council's lips

All your tenderness
And your skin like spiderweb
Your dictionaries and fine-printed grammars
All your kisses
Light and feverish
Your slight of hand and dancing with mirrors