My great grandmother created a quilt
for each of her great granddaughters,
to be gifted to us when we became married.
My mother kept my stitched together quilt inside her house
until I deserved to receive it. I loved sunflowers
when I was a girl. When I was engaged, I was given
a beautiful sunflower quilt at my wedding shower.
I did not sell it or give it away, but it is not mine anymore.
I wasn’t allowed to keep it after my marriage failed to last.
I didn’t deserve it after my sad non-traditional dreams
warped into a bloody onslaught of nightmares.
The kind of bed I sleep on would taint the sunflower heads,
un-petal them with tiny parasites, invade other’s
happy lives. My great grandmother is now dead.
Cracked seeds thrown inside a sun-less casket.
I don’t believe in a heavenly afterlife or love
that lasts forever. Anything that is made for me
will soon be taken away from me and hidden in the dark.