Day 12--Poem on a Quilt Pattern

Confession: The Prairie Queen

I am in love with the Prairie Queen,
 draping her over my torso at night.

I trace her every single stitch in the dark
 and remember her color from the light.

I turn her in my eye and she becomes
 in turn my eye, and my sleep

comes slow under her bosom. 
 Some patterns of sky I fold

and keep in a box: the tornado, the spring,
 the wild geese in flight. I told

my wife we could not spread you here
 on our bed any longer 

as I am ashamed of my skin beneath your
 cotton flesh. But she names, stronger

than either your woman’s art, or my simple lust,
 a map of deep, unseen rivers, of a root we can trust.

Note: A bit of history & info on the Prairie Queen quilt pattern.

Another note: The actual quilt on our bed is a wedding ring pattern made by my wife's mother. I feel no guilt sleeping beneath it.