Jacqueline Osherow

Poems by Jacqueline Osherow

At the Wailing Wall

Cherries

Spring Sonnet, with my sister’s favorite bit of Deborah

  Jacqueline Osherow

Cherries

There’s mercy in the decades as they pass,
reducing years of ache to a single afternoon
beneath a cherry tree in a terraced garden:
the cherries seem to ripen while we gaze,
darkening as sunlight starts to fade.
You’re talking; I’m waiting for you to realize
what you won’t admit for another decade:
love is not a word I wouldn’t use
you’ll say once I’ve had daughters, you, a son.
Now there’s another decade gone
and I have yet to hear of love
without some qualifier, some double negative.
Perhaps I’ve stifled it? It’s getting late;
no sign of ripeness, just failing light.