Poetry: Single Player Chess


I’ve never understood

Single-player chess

I don’t understand

How you keep yourself

From taking sides

Isn’t there something

That makes you choose:

Black or white?

And then you try to make them win.

We’re ruled by our

Love of underdogs

By the tiny voices

Pulling strings in our minds


Choosing sides

And watching the rest fall apart

From there



You love the game

Rather than the victory


Your love of the intricacies

Of playing so well

That you can’t beat yourself


It all depends what gives you

Satisfaction, I guess.

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