you remind me of Maisie
on a Sunday scrubbed clean
beneath a fresh bonnet
with shiny red cheeks
green eyes and lace frills,
Maisie loves the vicar
and brings him freshly grown tomatoes
which match her cheeks.
She smells of compost and lavender soap.
He asks her for lunch after church.
Their eyes meet over large tomatoes
eaten whole that squelch
as the juice runs down their chins.
She giggles into her lace handkerchief,
he wipes his chin on the tablecloth,
and over the crockery they kiss,
all tasting of fresh tomatoes.
She giggles some more.
He squeezes Maisie the plump tomato
and they disappear under the table
beneath newly pressed linen.
Maisie’s cheeks ripen until she shines
with the shiny red plumpness
of ready-to-eat fruit.
The vicar praises God for tomatoes
and descends upon Maisie for dessert.