When they were young, her brother taught her chess
She loved the liquid moves of hand and eye
She mastered castling and complex movements

He should, perhaps, have taught her other things
The tricks that men would later play on her
The rules of other games that puzzled

But instead he kept her lost in childhood
Enthralled by figures on a checkered board
Wise to strategy, not to emotion

So when she came to adulthood: eighteen,
And found herself elsewhere, partnerless, alone
She knew nothing of the rules to play by

Her chances were not great, no kings nor queens
For her to follow, no knights to protect
A single figure on a game board, the pawn