Lost in the Maze With Queenie Miller (Poetry)

Queenie has this game she plays
with dice and counters —
the board is one that she has made
from the cut-off backs of cornflake packets
Sellotaped together so they fold out almost flat
and on the plain side she has rulered
felt tip squares —
some coloured in at random — some left blank
others have instructions to GO BACK THREE SQUARES
or LOSE A TURN — her rules
invented — changing daily on a whim.

Each afternoon she asks me if I’ll play —
it’s easier to say okay
than think up lame excuses
and I’m guessing that she’s smarter than we dream.
Every time I notice something different
on the board — another obstacle inked inbetween
a warning — QUICKSAND! — with a cartoon skull —
and Queenie grins when my throw lands me in
the snake pit that’s appeared there overnight.

The nurses watch us at a distance
still wary after decades — fear she might
get too excited — but they know the rules —
the other set — for Queenie has her own
and I follow — ‘die’ repeatedly — never question why
I always lose — while famous Queenie Miller
throws smiley double-sixes — skips and hops across electric fences
that always bring me down —
Oh, our Queenie is a killer —
and no one argues with her — dares
to turn that crazed old woman’s board around.