Elbows planted like flags in disputed land.
Two wrists hover — a silent demand.
Knuckles pale.
Thighs brace.
Toes root the sole.
Locked cog against wheel.
She smirks, I smirk back. I gain, she regrets.
No room for bluffing.
Authority disputed.
I press. Shoulders turn.
Brute force to finish. Nothing.
Arm wrestle of attrition.
Two elephants, tusks locked,
legs entrenched in mud.
A deadzone between enemy trenches.
No man's land in the width of a table.
Her jaw tightens. Cords rise.
Wood rattles. Spectators gasp.
Seconds stretch to minutes.
Arms tremble.
Neither breaking.
Until suddenly,
as if in telepathy,
hands unclasp.
Silence settles.
Face is saved, nothing won.
Till next time, game iron.