Spillway Review
Poetry

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Fantasies of Being a Multitude

by Sarah Quigley

 
Sometimes I think of Connie,
a tiny woman with electric blue eyes,
who flies to destitute countries,
grants poor women no-interest loans
so they can launch a little business,
gain independence from drunken husbands,
greedy lenders, then there's Sylvia, a nurse
I know, from Lafayette, Louisiana,
Sylvia, who works twelve-hour shifts,
who never lets up, easing patients' fears
in a drawl, warm and sweet as beignets.

Sometimes I go down a long list
of equally illustrious names
with equally admirable traits,
longing to apprehend
one virtue of hers, one of his,
longing to borrow the best from each,
temporarily excusing myself from
showing up to ply my own
sacred agenda.