February 14th

I wouldn't thank you for a Valentine
By Liz Lochhead

I wouldn’t thank you for a Valentine.
I won't wake up early wondering if the postman’s been.
Should 10 red-padded satin hearts arrive with sticky
sickly saccharine
Sentiments in very vulgar verses I wouldn’t wonder if
you meant them.
Two dozen anonymous Interflora red roses?
I’d not bother to swither over who sent them!
I wouldn’t thank you for a Valentine.

Scrawl SWALK across the envelope
I’d just say ‘ Same Auld story
I canny be bothered deciphering it –
I’m up to hear with Amore!
The whole Valentine’s Day Thing is trivial and
commercial,
A cue for unleashing clichés and candyheart motifs to
which I personally am not partial.’
Take more than singing Telegrams, or pints of
Chanel Five, or sweets,
To get me ordering oysters or ironing my black satin sheets.
I wouldn’t thank you for a Valentine.

If you sent me a solitaire and promises solemn,
Took out an ad in the Guardian Personal Column
Saying something very soppy such as ‘Who Loves Ya,
Poo?
I’ll tell you, I do, Fozzy bear, that’s who!’
You’d entirely fail to charm me, in fact I’d detest it
I wouldn’t be eighteen again for anything, I’m glad I’m
past it.
I wouldn’t thank you for a Valentine.

If you sent me a single orchid, or a pair of Janet Reger’s
in a heart-shaped box and declared your Love Eternal
I’d say I’d rather not be caught dead in them they were
politically suspect and I’d rather something thermal.
If you hired a plane and blazed our love in a banner
across the skies;
If you bought me something flimsy in a flatteringly
wrong size;
If you sent me a postcard with three Xs and told me
how you felt
I wouldn’t thank you, I’d melt.



Image courtesy of Sign Language