Shannon K. Winston: Wish Fulfillment

                                                     Paul Klee Pink Springs in Deep Winter, 1932

Spectacular: the way pink petals open
               against an equally pink
sky. Each brush stroke: a stem

             that connects to other stems,
to fine lines, and blooming buds.
             If I look closely,

I see a map, cracked
             glass, and tiny veins.
The blueprint of my own clumsy

               body, too, projected onto the clouds.
My ribs, my crooked teeth, the scar
              on my right cheek.

My hard, unassuming breasts.
             My legs, bruised from
knocking into objects

              I forget are there.
On the canvas, struggle becomes
              grace: awkwardness its own

kind of beauty. Here where
             even the warmest hues
bloom from snow.

A single crocus muscles
             its way into open air:
past bark, thorn, and rock.

Past ice and mud. Its bud
              no bigger than a clenched
fist. Its undersides crimson

              —a color I so often
confuse with the body’s
               vibrant contusions.