Quilting

Leah Brodsky

 

I am like a quilt,

An array of blues and greys,

A variation of ornamentation,

Boxes of cognizant memories

Which I want to forget.

 

I am like a quilt

Comfortable and wrapped in my ways

Of non-existent vulnerability

Patterns of not opening-up

Sewn together with the labor of leaving.

 

I used to make quilts,

Sew the patches together like bandages

Tidying up the loose ends of the squares like sandwiches

Of various memories,

Like the fight that we never made up from.

The mean words flowed from our mouths

Like the cheap vodka we were drinking.

The craft was a prudent act of fixing the past,

 

But I stopped quilting…

 

Because I’ve been hurt so many times

The past repeats to the present–

I’ve felt comfortable in someone’s blanket

Only to have it ripped, wrinkled like an aged face,

And draped over the bed in the shape

Of my broken heart.

 

I am like a quilt

Who will wrap around the right person

And keep them warm

But I want them to unhinge me

Break down my walls

Untie my seams

And find the real me.