Elaine sat
on her bed

her plump hands
in her lap

palms upward

wondering
which lines there

was the life
and which was

the love line,
she'd read it

in some place
on a page

in her mum's
magazine,

which her mum
had left there

for Elaine
to study

about girls
and bodies,

periods,
the naming

of each part,
with a line

like a thin
black arrow

showing there
what was what.

What she saw
made her blush

and quickly
turned the page

to see where
her love line

or life live
was on her

upturned palm.
The bold word:

******,
stuck in her

mind like glue;
like having

a brand new
item in her

plumpish palms,
turning round

with fingers
anxiously

not knowing
what to do.