Boiled, not scrambled

Take your towel off and wade with me into the inky waters of chess free verse.  

Have you seen it?  A flash and then silence.

Ajitsuke tamago for breakfast.

Mirin sauce drizzled on deck.

This game ends with a kamikaze rook lift.  Like a pyrotechnic in the sky (rising, rising to g6), it explodes and dazzles all over and then darkness, darkness all over, the eternal and bewildering darkness of a stalemate.

*

Flip the board and you can see it walk the plank, and fall to torpedo depth, or sink like a depth charge, and explode in the face of the White submarine Captain.  A bitter pill to swallow, an oil slick on the surface, Black is not drawn and quartered, merely halved.

And to the pawns I verily say, Rest in Piece ye Merry Gentlemen!

Now get out and dry yourself off.

Play over the last 6 moves of this game, and relive the spectacle over and over again, of the rook falling on its sword.