Friday Poem

The Gift

Give me what you have on you.
Neither keys nor money.
Make it something temporary.

The hastily scribbled phone number.
The dry-cleaned piece of paper in your coat pocket.
The button about to fall off.

The words you just held back from saying.
Your strength too much to open a door.
All the things you no longer need.

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

by K. Schippers
from tellen en wegen
publisher: Querido, Amsterdam, 2011
Translation: 2012, Willem Groenewegen

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