I’ve slaughtered babies all day long,
near Bethlehem. But why? If the wizards are right,
nothing can alter the Fates, and, if they’re wrong,
we’re killing without a reason. So now, at night,
It’s 1925, I sit in the chair
across from Capablanca. I’m here to replace
Herr Lasker, but the Cuban couldn’t care,
the clock is ticking; there’s sweat on my face.
I see that black’s ...