Poem
Roddy Lumsden
On First Meeting Margot
On First Meeting Margot
On First Meeting Margot
When you were born, they saidyou looked like me – as if – if only –
but now I see your Daddy’s eyes
right away, and think how fond I am
of him, as you twist around
your mother, pranking, having a busy day.
And your mother is still bringing off
the perfection, as she ever has.
Margot, I’m concussed. One day
You’ll know what that means. Each minute,
or so, I tell myself, beneath my breath,
‘be careful’. Today I counted the people
I truly love and didn’t use too many fingers.
I can’t play the classical guitar, have never
slalomed and rum does very little for me.
I’m still in love with someone
who is growing uncomfortable with that.
I have limited patience for theatre,
of the real or metaphorical sorts.
Excuse me, Margot, I am introducing myself
somewhat awkward, but you seem
anyhow to prefer spinning round Mummy,
more than my persuasive interference.
Your shy smile is the best of it.
You will talk any dog off a ledge.
You will shuck both Egham and Swindon,
being the new breed. Luck dances
as you dance. All will be all will be best.
I will mend as you grow, important one.
I shake your hand in stately fashion.
Lady, that was a blessing to meet you.
To be that. It was a day of remark.
© 2014, Roddy Lumsden
Roddy Lumsden
(United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, 1966)
Roddy Lumsden is a Scottish poet, editor and poetry teacher, based in London, whose championing of several strands in current US poetry has helped to embed its influences in a rapidly broadening contemporary UK scene.
His poetry is marked by a wistful melancholy and self-examination, fractured narratives, and formal inventiveness. His addiction to the minutiae of form is reflected in his not-...
His poetry is marked by a wistful melancholy and self-examination, fractured narratives, and formal inventiveness. His addiction to the minutiae of form is reflected in his not-...
Poems
Poems of Roddy Lumsden
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On First Meeting Margot
When you were born, they saidyou looked like me – as if – if only –
but now I see your Daddy’s eyes
right away, and think how fond I am
of him, as you twist around
your mother, pranking, having a busy day.
And your mother is still bringing off
the perfection, as she ever has.
Margot, I’m concussed. One day
You’ll know what that means. Each minute,
or so, I tell myself, beneath my breath,
‘be careful’. Today I counted the people
I truly love and didn’t use too many fingers.
I can’t play the classical guitar, have never
slalomed and rum does very little for me.
I’m still in love with someone
who is growing uncomfortable with that.
I have limited patience for theatre,
of the real or metaphorical sorts.
Excuse me, Margot, I am introducing myself
somewhat awkward, but you seem
anyhow to prefer spinning round Mummy,
more than my persuasive interference.
Your shy smile is the best of it.
You will talk any dog off a ledge.
You will shuck both Egham and Swindon,
being the new breed. Luck dances
as you dance. All will be all will be best.
I will mend as you grow, important one.
I shake your hand in stately fashion.
Lady, that was a blessing to meet you.
To be that. It was a day of remark.
On First Meeting Margot
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