My Life in Squares Poem by Kristin Dimitrova

Like a chess-player who plays with
both the white and the black pieces,
I have been attacking myself
for a long while.
At each turn of the chessboard

I defend myself against enemy bishops.
The knight's horses snort, stamping their feet,
and when they jump their hoofs
pierce through chest bones.
The queen is laughing at me.

Today the white one.
Tomorrow the black one.
I hear her while I think
over my next move.
Some people end

this kind of game
with an inevitable victory.
I get upset,
kick down the chessboard
and storm out of the room.

Then I ponder over my loss and see
it was so damn unfair.