The Last Move Before Dawn

The room was silent.

No chatting, no footsteps—

Click, clack, and the sound of the chess clock broke the silence.

Before me sat the one and only Magnus Carlsen.

Calm as the wind, steady as a computer,

He schemed his every move.

The clock clicked, clacked; I moved my pawn.

Magnus smiled; he moved his pawn.

Then the knight, then the bishop, 

Then the mighty nobles feuded.

Last came the Rook and the Queen, 

Delivering deadly blows inside one square after another.

Silence devoured the room.

Bloodless war raged on.

My foe trod upon my fallen heroes’ unmarked grave;

A few lonely pieces took the last stand.

Suddenly, Magnus blundered,

On his face, I sensed terror.

Magnus’ pieces collapsed, begging for a second chance;

I smiled, and I calmly, yet dramatically, delivered the final graceful blow.

Click, Clack, the sound of the morning clock broke the silence.

Max had a dream.

He sat across from Magnus Carlsen. The clock ticked. The pieces fell. A bloodless war raged across 64 squares.

And then, somehow, Magnus blundered. 😂

In his new poem, Max turns a quiet chess match into a battlefield of fallen heroes, desperate last stands, and one very satisfying final blow.

Then comes the cruelest move of all:

the alarm clock.

Dream over. For now. ♟️