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9.6
/10
(32
votes)
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My clumsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases,
At whose quick touch all glasses chip and ring,
Whose palms are bulls in china, burs in linen,
And have no cunning with any soft thing
Except all ill-at-ease fidgeting people:
The refugee uncertain at the door
You make at home; deftly you steady
The drunk clambering on his undulant floor.
Unpredictable dear, the taxi drivers' terror,
Shrinking from far headlights pale as a dime
Yet leaping before apopleptic streetcars—
Misfit in any space. And never on time.
A wrench in clocks and the solar system. Only
With words and people and love you move at ease;
In traffic of wit expertly maneuver
And keep us, all devotion, at your knees.
Forgetting your coffee spreading on our flannel,
Your lipstick grinning on our coat,
So gaily in love's unbreakable heaven
Our souls on glory of spilt bourbon float.
Be with me, darling, early and late. Smash glasses—
I will study wry music for your sake.
For should your hands drop white and empty
All the toys of the world would break.
Anonymous submission.
John Frederick Nims
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Read poems about / on: people, music, heaven, home, poem, world
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Comments about this poem (Love Poem
by
John Frederick Nims
) |
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comments about this poem (Love Poem by
John Frederick Nims
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Billie Brown
(6/9/2009 10:48:00 AM) |
I've loved this poem for longer than Alex Rodriguez has been alive. I had the great good fortune to be loved like this once. I would say it is the ultimate romantic acclamation!
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Max Reif
(12/23/2008 3:56:00 PM) |
Indeed; it's lovely.
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Mandira Mitra
(5/9/2007 11:16:00 AM) |
This is such a sensitive poem. I wonder why there isn't more of Nims'.
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