Queen Me by Kelli Russell Agodon

Playing chess I realize how tired I am
of the patriarchy, how the winning move
involves the king, the useless piece
who can only skate square to square.
When playing checkers, I taught my daughter
to say as she slides her plastic red chip
the full-length of the board: Queen me.
It returns to my youth when I wanted
to play baseball and the coach said,
Girls can only play softball and tossed me
what looked like a small leather planet.
Queen me, I wanted to say when I couldn’t
be captain of the kickball team, couldn’t
play Santa in the school show. Queen me,
my daughter says to the neighbor boy,
who without question places another checker
on her piece. Later I hear him say
to my daughter, Queen me as they begin
another game. Queen me, he says again
and again as the universe begins to shift
like a tilted tiara finally made right. Queen me,
I say to the moon while sitting on my porch,
my family asleep, unknowing how
sometimes my crown is made from worry
while all the gems are made from hope.

Kelli Russell Agodon is a poet, editor, and book cover designer. Her most recent book is Hourglass Museum (White Pine Press). She is the cofounder of Two Sylvias Press and lives in the Pacific Northwest where she’s an avid paddleboarder and an enthusiastic chess player. www.agodon.com / www.twosylviaspress.com