Poem Hunter
Playing At Leaving
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Playing At Leaving

Poem By Chloe Meakin

Late at night I’ve been getting up.
None of you know this.

Fingering my wardrobe in the dark.
Putting on a suit for business.
I could get on a train in this suit.

Its sharp lines would be stabs in all of your hearts.

How completely satisfactory would that be?

Putting on scarlet lipstick,
watching my lips in the bathroom mirror.
One night they might say something.

It hasn’t been easy keeping secrets like this.

I’m cutting everything that I eat in half.
I like the mathematics of it.
I am in favour of details.
I am thinking carefully about
exactly what each one means.

The old skeleton’s back in town, you know.
Nobody seems to have noticed.

Late at night I’ve been putting things together.
Placing thing after thing, perfectly in its place.

I can’t quite explain this.
It would hurt you too much.
It might mean I wouldn’t love you all enough.
The thought of that is a little too much.
It makes me sweat with excitement.

My mouth is so full of secrets.

“I might not love you all quite enough.”
To say that to a night echoing with chimes!

One night I think I might
go out into the excitement of the darkness
and rape myself.

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