“The Rural Carrier Discovers That Love Is Everywhere”

A registered letter for the Jensens.  I walk down their drive

Through the gate of their thick-hedged yard, and by God there they are,

On a blanket in the grass, asleep, buck-naked, honeymooners

Not married a month.  I smile, turn to leave,

But can’t help looking back.  Lord, they’re a pretty sight,

Both of them, tangled up in each other, easy in their skin-

It’s their own front yard, after all, perfectly closed in

By privet hedge and country.  Maybe they were here all night.


I want to believe they’d to that, not thinking of me

Or anyone else but themselves, alone in the world

Of the yard with its clipped grass and fresh-picked fruit trees.

Whatever this letter says can wait.  To hell with the mail.

I slip through the gate, silent as I came, and leave them

Alone.  There’s no one they need to hear from.