Last week’s proposal bouquet prompted the re-reading of this little gem from poet Simon Armitage. Enjoy.
I am very bothered when I think
of all the bad things I have done in my life.
Not least the time I held a pair of scissors by the blades
and played the handles
in the naked lilac flame of the Bunsen burner;
then called your name, and handed them over.
O the unrivalled stench of branded skin
as you slipped your thumb and middle finger in,
then couldn’t shake off the two burning rings. Marked,
the doctor said, for eternity.
Don’t believe me, please, if I say
that was just my butterfingered way, at thirteen,
of asking you if you would marry me.