Battleship
Battleship
You and me—
Strangers we never got to see.
Two plastic ships
on opposite ends of a battleship board
prayed not to sink,
depended on a player
playing a friendly game
with a peer.
Both wanted us to cheer
when your,
my ship was sunken.
When you,
I lost a member of our fleet.
B4!
B3!
Hit!
Miss!
You sunk my battleship!
Shouts that still echo
over a cleared board,
the compartmentalized you and me,
plastic pieces, played
that drowned believing
it was worth it to win
a prizeless victory.
Game over—
until we’re played again.
Biography: Born and raised in Los Angeles, Michael Roque began writing poetry and prose while studying at Pasadena City College. He has been based in the Middle East since 2013. He is the author of Writing to a Raid Siren (Pomegranate Press). His work has appeared in literary journals including North Dakota Quarterly, The Queen’s Review, The Roanoke Rambler, Poetry Super Highway, and BlazeVOX.
Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/two-small-boats-sitting-side-by-side-in-the-water-FFf_f-IC5xs) 20. 8. 2026.
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