The seconds between waking
and opening your eyes
may be revelatory.
The adventurous traveller
tries to remember
where he is. The philanderer
extends a cautious investigating
foot. Is he alone?
Either answer has its pleasures.
The hungover poet wants
to hold on to the knock-out phrase
that just occurred to him. No chance.
The patient feels his pain but decides,
in his morphine-muddled way,
to try surviving for another day.
from 'Let's keep in touch'
Connie Bensley lives in Mortlake, in south-west London, and before retirement worked as a secretary, a copywriter and a bookshop assistant. Her most recent full collection is Finding a Leg to Stand On: New & Selected Poems (Bloodaxe, 2012). She writes: ‘I believe I have my father to thank for my interest in words. He used to go in for magazine competitions and once won eighteen guineas, which dumbfounded my mother.’