After Phoebe Wahl’s Painting “Spring”
By Karen Quickley
In this image there’s
This beautiful man (you),
And a wife, probably,
Who looks something
Like me (or at least like who
I once could have been).
There are children—
The daughter, in a bright
Red wool coat, carrying
Her toddler brother who
Is all bundled up for
This cool spring day.
Lightly, it’s raining,
And I’m carrying fresh-
Cut daffodils in my basket.
You’ve got the umbrella
And are keeping
Both of us dry.
I’ll always remember
Your corduroy pants
(A funny detail) and
These light pink petals
Falling like snow here
And there because
Of the rain and the wind.
If I’d really made it here
(There), surely it would
Have been in the midst
Of a bit of weather.
And it still seems
Like it could have
Happened like this—
Somehow; some way.
If only this—if only that.
How far away
And out of reach
You seem (and certainly
Our children, now that
I’m perimenopausal).
How I want the shape
Of no other man on top
Of me in my bed.
How I might never have
You there (here).
I’m 49 now, and it’s
Hard to keep waiting.
Thank you for your
Great brown beard;
Thank you for your
Kindness. Thank you
For being the best
And for imbuing
My consciousness
With my favorite dream
That I now can see
So clearly.
Karen Quickley (she/her) is a bi+ feminist poet and writer residing in the Cleveland, Ohio area in the U.S. Her work has been featured in numerous print and online publications and has been nominated for Best of the Net. More at karenquickley.net.