The Passion Of Sally Bowles - Poem by Chloe Meakin
It starts within your belly,
and stretches where she touched you on your elbow.
A set of serious thoughts to set,
almost gold, deep into your head.
As poisonous as mercury.
Sometimes you think you'll lose your teeth.
But in that year, and in that next, last, year,
at least she thinks of you.
She photocopies poems.
Reads them for you.
And she's that terrible fish rising in the lake
when she reads it to you.
She has that force.
Now you've got to write a play with all your passion.
You've got to find your secret passion.
It's her, it's her. This was all before you knew.
It starts your day, this passion.
It starts a freakish little passion for you,
and seventeen, it scares you.
At seventeen, it's setting you.
A passion of your teeth are dropping out.
It's all you are. It's all before you knew.
And by twenty two.
By twenty two
it's broken you.
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