Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Vrouwkje Tuinman

CLOTHING

There were about forty pairs of shoes in your closet.
I did not count them, I only looked until I saw a set that would go with your funeral suit.
Your funeral suit: the suit in which you went to funerals and pulled off the moment you entered the hallway back home.
Now we dressed you, in so many layers: a diaper with frivolous edges sticking out of your underpants, a white vest
- I’ll teach you a trick, a man said. You put your own arms through the sleeves, and his into the air. Let the vest slide down to his chest, and then you just have to, yes, try it, raise his head, the soft shoulders automatically come along, and you’re done.
- then a shirt, the wildest one, which nevertheless needed ironing.
I brought an iron but no board, but there was a coffin and the top was smooth.
A waistcoat.
Is that required?
Go on, take the waistcoat, otherwise the funeral suit will not be right.
All those buttons, then a pair of trousers, for which there is not really a trick, except to plant your hands firmly in the buttocks, and pull.
A jacket.
First put your own arms in, and then his, how many more times would we have to agitate you, what are the buttoning rules when you’re in a box?
The socks.
The ones with the skulls on them.
You hated your toes, which I loved so much, and now because of the rough material, the stiff left foot, the hands next to mine that went so much faster with the one on the right, I forgot to pay attention.
I do not have any children, I said, how do you put shoes on someone, is there a trick?

AANKLEDEN

AANKLEDEN

Er stonden misschien wel veertig paar schoenen in je kast.
Ik heb ze niet geteld, ik keek tot ik een stel zag dat paste bij je uitvaartpak.
Het pak waarmee je naar begrafenissen ging en dat je weer terug thuis al in
de gang weer uittrok.
Nu kleedden wij je aan in vele lagen: een luier waarvan de randjes frivool uit
je onderbroek staken, een wit hemd
– Ik leer jullie een truc, zei een man. Je steekt je eigen armen door de
mouwen, en die van hem de lucht in. Het hele ding glijdt omlaag, op zijn
borst en dan hoef je alleen, doe het maar, zijn hoofd omhoog, de weke
schouders komen mee, en klaar. –
daarna een overhemd, het allerwildste, dat desondanks gestreken moest.
Ik had een strijkbout mee, geen plank, maar er was een kist en die was glad.
Een vest.
Is dat nodig?
Doe maar, doe dat vest, anders klopt het niet met het uitvaartpak.
Al die knoopjes, toen een broek, waar niet echt een truc voor is, behalve dan
je handen goed stevig in de billen planten, en trekken maar.
Een jasje.
Steek eerst je eigen armen, en dan de zijne, hoe vaak moesten we je nog door
elkaar schudden, hoeveel knopen moeten van de etiquette dicht, in een kist?
De sokken.
Die met de doodshoofden erop.
Je had een hekel aan je tenen, die ik zo graag zag, en nu vergat ik vanwege de
stroeve stof, de stijve linkervoet, de handen naast de mijne die zoveel sneller
gingen met de rechter, om te kijken.
Ik heb geen kinderen, zei ik, hoe trek je iemand schoenen aan, is er een truc?
Close

CLOTHING

There were about forty pairs of shoes in your closet.
I did not count them, I only looked until I saw a set that would go with your funeral suit.
Your funeral suit: the suit in which you went to funerals and pulled off the moment you entered the hallway back home.
Now we dressed you, in so many layers: a diaper with frivolous edges sticking out of your underpants, a white vest
- I’ll teach you a trick, a man said. You put your own arms through the sleeves, and his into the air. Let the vest slide down to his chest, and then you just have to, yes, try it, raise his head, the soft shoulders automatically come along, and you’re done.
- then a shirt, the wildest one, which nevertheless needed ironing.
I brought an iron but no board, but there was a coffin and the top was smooth.
A waistcoat.
Is that required?
Go on, take the waistcoat, otherwise the funeral suit will not be right.
All those buttons, then a pair of trousers, for which there is not really a trick, except to plant your hands firmly in the buttocks, and pull.
A jacket.
First put your own arms in, and then his, how many more times would we have to agitate you, what are the buttoning rules when you’re in a box?
The socks.
The ones with the skulls on them.
You hated your toes, which I loved so much, and now because of the rough material, the stiff left foot, the hands next to mine that went so much faster with the one on the right, I forgot to pay attention.
I do not have any children, I said, how do you put shoes on someone, is there a trick?

CLOTHING

There were about forty pairs of shoes in your closet.
I did not count them, I only looked until I saw a set that would go with your funeral suit.
Your funeral suit: the suit in which you went to funerals and pulled off the moment you entered the hallway back home.
Now we dressed you, in so many layers: a diaper with frivolous edges sticking out of your underpants, a white vest
- I’ll teach you a trick, a man said. You put your own arms through the sleeves, and his into the air. Let the vest slide down to his chest, and then you just have to, yes, try it, raise his head, the soft shoulders automatically come along, and you’re done.
- then a shirt, the wildest one, which nevertheless needed ironing.
I brought an iron but no board, but there was a coffin and the top was smooth.
A waistcoat.
Is that required?
Go on, take the waistcoat, otherwise the funeral suit will not be right.
All those buttons, then a pair of trousers, for which there is not really a trick, except to plant your hands firmly in the buttocks, and pull.
A jacket.
First put your own arms in, and then his, how many more times would we have to agitate you, what are the buttoning rules when you’re in a box?
The socks.
The ones with the skulls on them.
You hated your toes, which I loved so much, and now because of the rough material, the stiff left foot, the hands next to mine that went so much faster with the one on the right, I forgot to pay attention.
I do not have any children, I said, how do you put shoes on someone, is there a trick?
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