Tuesday, 25 October 2011

Poem by the Dutch poet K. Schippers

The gift

Give me what’s on you.
Not keys or money.
Just what happens to be there.

The hurriedly scribbled phone number.
The note in your jacket pocket that also got dry-cleaned.
The button on the point of getting lost.

The words you came within an inch of saying.
Your strength that’s too much to open a door.
All that’s of no use to you any more.

Give me the rustle of your cotton.
The wind can do without it.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I very much like the phrase "the button on the point of getting lost"