Stale, mate

 

Stale, mate

 

I’m stuck, trapped, boxed in.

Whichever way I move,

It brings me back to here,

Walled in and cornered.

I’m sick of the knife-edge tango

This dance with balance

and the relentless Dark Queen

Chasing me across the board.

I tap-dance between squares,

Trying to escape with clever moves

returning always to this state.

Breathing space, for a short while

Means I can fool myself I am free

Before the shadow of the Queen

Falls long across the field

And in a few moves, I’m locked up

Pinned down and frantic.

I concede: you win.

No rematch, please.