Sweaty Hands Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Twin Cities, brought together through sheer need,
St. Paul thought of himself as holier than thou.
And Minna from the family of Polis took the lead
she liked the fellow and the proper time was now.

So they combined their wits, their assets and their plan,
held hands in public, showing that they cared
the citizens applauded loudly, to a man
so precious how their lives would now be shared.

St. Paul, whose skin was a bit thin and prone to freeze,
showed Minna blue and purple every day,
compounded by a cough and an explosive sneeze
he longed for Spring which wouldn't come until mid-May.

So Minna, kind of heart and sweet, with pleasant face
took out her knitting needles and began to knit,
hands resting on exquisite breasts, beneath pink lace
she did not like him using that expression, 'like your tit'.

On Sunday afternoon she tied a bow around
the finished mittens, full of love and hue
of rainbow colours, ease to eyes with whispered sound
surprise, surprise she laughed, I made these just for you.

Hindsight is what you use when nothing can explain,
why someone makes a gesture no one understands.
He did suspect that she had knitted in the main
to have him cover his big vagus-bound and sweaty hands.