In the Palm of His Hand

I’m in love, I’m in love!
I know – I’ve cried Wolf before
but this time it’s true.
I’m in for the full agony:
the contrived encounters;
the heart-shock of the doorbell;
the new meaning to life; the new lingerie.
How do I know it will get that far?
Because of his meaningful look
when he weighs my mange-tout, my pink fir apples.
Because he slips an extra nectarine into my basket.
Because on Tuesday he offered to deliver
to me personally, and he wrote my address
in the palm of his hand.

first published in The Back and the Front of It (Bloodaxe, 2000), © Connie Bensley 2000, from Finding a Leg to Stand On (Bloodaxe, 2012), used by permission of the author and the publisher.

Connie Bensley in the Poetry Store

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