YOUNG ADULT Poem: Chequemate?, by Graciella Tickner

I sit quietly at the board,
My pieces arranged with care,
Though my moves feel uncertain,
As if another were pulling the strings.

Every glance a pawn,
Each word a knight,
Rotating, moving too quickly,
Then moving too slow,
The game never still enough,
To know if it’s real or not.

I use to play fiercely,
Always a queen’s gambit,
Always a trap laid beneath
The smooth surface of a smile.

But here with you,
I feel myself waiting for the check,
Anticipating the sharpness of betrayal.
I know the rules;
The quiet betrayals,
The subtle pushes.
There is no exchange of words but everything hurts.

Is it just another round of calculated moves,
Or are we building something,
Something where I can let my guard down?

You say your heart is open,
But i’ve seen hearts open,
Only to be crushed,
Squeezed until the blood drips dry,
Turned over on the board
Like a forgotten piece.

So don’t blame me,
As I question each step,
Wondering if this is the beginning of a game,
Or the end of another loss.
I wonder, is love really this fragile?
Or am I simply playing with ghosts,
Afraid to breathe too deep,
In case it all slips away.

I’ll call cheque,
But will you meet me at chequemate?