5-D Chess, or Apocalypse Is Nearly Here

Neeraj Palnitkar, United States

Remember that boy, the third-grade

bughouse champion. Be kinder to him.

Send his bishop

to B5. He will thank you later. Stop thinking

about what to say at

your mother’s funeral. That timeline

is miles away. Move your rook

sideways and watch the sky

turn to stone somewhere. Watch the cold

wind unlatch. An old man in the park

says he’s played against you in ten different

lives. You have lost in all of them. The myrtle trees

are blooming. That means it’s

July. That means you’re in check. Your future

self would know what to do. Let him lend

you a hand. Here, a pawn. In some world

it’s you, passing through multiverses of premeditation

and potential. When you slide your queen

forward, you slide a hundred ways

through a hundred lifetimes. To hell

with it all.

Throw the whole board out the window and watch

this world shatter like glass. Mold

the shards at your feet into

a new one. This moon could be made of ashes

for all we know. In seventh grade

you read a story about chess tournaments

and rewards. Forget the moral. Forget

the salted plums. There is not much

time. Call this life a stalemate. Listen to the one

song that always makes you cry. Tell the old man

you will beat him — you already have

at some point.

Neeraj Palnitkar is an undergraduate student at Emory University. His poetry and short stories have won Scholastic Awards and CSPA Gold Circles. In his free time, he enjoys reading Ada Limón, listening to K-R&B, and perfecting his chocolate chip cookie recipe. His work appears or is forthcoming in The Outland Magazine and The Cloudscent Journal.