Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Marjolijn van Heemstra

SURFACE AREAS

Love, they say, is not about exterior,
but I love, first and foremost, your body.
Your arm that lies around my neck at night
like a sleep-drunken scarf, the smell of your shirt
in the washing basket, the network of lines that
betrays how you smile, your narrow lower legs,
two masts on a shoe ship,
your crooked front tooth, your lips, your tongue behind
and, going even further, your bass, it doesn't matter what you say
I love the sound of your words, in which I
hear your body, the hollows, the strings,
your wide build. I love the moon of your
winter face and how gold you become in the summer.
I don't need to know what's going on inside, I read
your surface dimensions and, so, calculate bearing strength.

VLAKTEMATEN

VLAKTEMATEN

Liefde, wordt gezegd, gaat niet om buitenkant,
maar ik hou in eerste plaats van je lichaam.
Van je arm die ’s nachts als een slaapdronken
sjaal om mijn nek ligt, van de geur van je shirt
in de wasmand, het wegennet van lijnen die
verraden hoe je lacht, je smalle onderbenen,
twee masten op een schip van schoen,
je schuine voortand, je lippen, je tong daarachter
en verder weg je bas, het maakt niet uit wat je zegt,
ik hou van de klank van je woorden, waar ik
je lichaam in hoor, de holtes, de snaren,
je wijde bouw. Ik hou van de maan van je
wintergezicht en hoe goud je in de zomer wordt.
Ik hoef niet te weten wat er binnen gebeurt, ik lees
je vlaktematen, bereken daarmee draagkracht.

Close

SURFACE AREAS

Love, they say, is not about exterior,
but I love, first and foremost, your body.
Your arm that lies around my neck at night
like a sleep-drunken scarf, the smell of your shirt
in the washing basket, the network of lines that
betrays how you smile, your narrow lower legs,
two masts on a shoe ship,
your crooked front tooth, your lips, your tongue behind
and, going even further, your bass, it doesn't matter what you say
I love the sound of your words, in which I
hear your body, the hollows, the strings,
your wide build. I love the moon of your
winter face and how gold you become in the summer.
I don't need to know what's going on inside, I read
your surface dimensions and, so, calculate bearing strength.

SURFACE AREAS

Love, they say, is not about exterior,
but I love, first and foremost, your body.
Your arm that lies around my neck at night
like a sleep-drunken scarf, the smell of your shirt
in the washing basket, the network of lines that
betrays how you smile, your narrow lower legs,
two masts on a shoe ship,
your crooked front tooth, your lips, your tongue behind
and, going even further, your bass, it doesn't matter what you say
I love the sound of your words, in which I
hear your body, the hollows, the strings,
your wide build. I love the moon of your
winter face and how gold you become in the summer.
I don't need to know what's going on inside, I read
your surface dimensions and, so, calculate bearing strength.

Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère