Ben Paynter - a chess game, life

desks sit in rows
like prison bars
next door a telephone
sings hurry songs
i watch leaves fall
from trees
watch dust
gather dust
on windowpanes

this is life
played out with wooden pieces
programmed for
success

i sell my soul now
i sit with stone pawns
i move when hands
move me
i answer
the tele-
phone

yes devil
i've come to sell
my soul

Ben Paynter

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-chess-game-life/