In the Year of Splitting Up
Like the man who lived eleven days awake
we were always on a knife blade
of sleep. Afraid, in the slack space
of a blink it would be over. We portioned
the hours like watchmen, served out
our time on uncomfortable chairs.
These were savage nights as we avoided
thoughts of mattresses, sex. Our storm
honed its leading edge, our bones stung
with the effort of not touching,
wanting to unlip themselves from hooks
of skin, their voices, like the white light
we used to hear when we lay down together,
when we lay down, together, burning.
*Allison McVety’s, The Night Trotsky Came to Stay (Smith/Doorstop, 2007), was shortlisted for the Forward Best First Collection Prize. Her poems have appeared in The Times and broadcast on BBC radio. Her collection, Miming Happiness (Smith/Doorstop) was published in 2010.
'In the Year of Splitting Up' appears in Miming Happiness.