Other Ways I Can Love You Poem by Jim McDonald

I meant to say how fantastic you looked when you came downstairs this evening.
I meant to say how much I love your knowledge of lower league football.
I meant to say how much I love our evenings of quiet computers & documentaries.
I meant to say how much I cherish the five minutes before the alarm clock rings at 6a.m.
I meant to say how beautiful the line of your neck looks as you undress.

I am sorry I never told you.
All my role models are wrong.

Please take into consideration
the way I scrub the kitchen
the way I vacuum the stairs
the way I watch you when I know you are not looking
how I long for the smoothness of your skin
the way your hair falls onto your shoulders
and all the desires I feel, and strangle
as the life of our child fills our days.

If I ever depress you with the predictable, I apologise
If I ever disappoint you with my mundane babble, I am sorry.
I thought marital harmony and the garden shed meant I did not have to tell you
that I love your skirts
and beautiful shirts
and all the effort you still make.
My apathy to fashion is a tribute to your seductiveness
I thought I didn’t have to try.

I am sorry I gave up telling you.
All my role models are wrong.

9.4.07.