Monday 4 June 2012

Three poems by the Dutch writer
K. Schippers


On a classroom cupboard
stood a globe
under it I placed
a pencil sharpener
in the form of
a globe

and so I recall
my worlds when I
see the star-shavings
in the sky.

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.

No, no Nanette

Before the war Tea for Two
did something for my father.
And for me too.
He walked slowly
to hear more of it
coming from a house
and so missed the No. 2 tram.
In the next one my mother was sitting.

No comments: