Die A Death - Poem by Chloe Meakin
god sink this place, it’s a paper boat.
it’s a boat of bones, it’s a great big hole.
god wrap a chain and slip
a slick lock through my shivering tongue.
make me dig my way through these solemn settled stones.
this place gives me things under the skin.
oh god i tried to die when you buried me alive. i tried.
but i’d crossed the line.
i’d spent too long asphyxiating in that necklace,
stitching my hair into excuses,
asleep in my bed like a bruise.
this place takes great bites,
and it likes the taste of my sweet face.
this place makes me white like a bush,
makes me brittle and shaken.
full of voice. turns me round and shines me,
cut like diamonds.
this place is wastewater, and i am trying to drown.
going over and over and washing ashore.
not able to die. too much breath like a frog,
too confused. not able to speak.
i’d say this place bites my neck.
sings songs and strangles them off.
this place has become so weird,
i can sink into every stone, sniffing.
emerge in black and white.
i can blow apart like powder, i can blow like snow.
i can drink the ink, be electric like the lightning.
i can stalk across the rock with hair like feathers,
fingers lifting to the lonely throat of the grim.
make me sing, my chin against the
dead grit of the skeleton sand. blowing a trumpet
of dire triumph across the lost.
i’d say this place is older, rattling its dice.
it’s lain here so long it’s grown along the long line of
my white spine. it’s lost its grace.
i’ll blow through the hole, quiet it down.
wrap it, carry it on a stretcher out to sea.
light a candle, light a lighthouse, bring your flames.
this place is taken.
this place is snuffed. hush. be finished.
hold your coins and line them on your tongue.
i said this place has had its day,
this place has been and gone.
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