Even Bob Dylan Reminds Me Of You
I have a frayed quilt, folded
Age frays fiber like a document shredder frays secrets
It lays limp as a reminder
Of reconciliation
Anchored, the weight of redemption holds it
In place
Like black vinyl held his lines for years
Before Pandora gathered the whole collection in a mysterious cyber place
(You’ve never seen it, you loved quilts, but this one you would not)
The yellow squares are a billion one inch pieces
No one will count-check behind me
The yellow squares scream louder than a caution light
The shade is one off of gauche
But it’s the story that marries peace with threads
Storytellers know
Poets do too
Fraying helps the edginess
I love every square inch
Except the polyester fabric
Which is 100 percent of this masterpiece
Sewn by church ladies
Or a grieving widow or an Appalachian blue haired lady, retired from teaching
An educated guess at best
The giver is whom I love
I wish the quilt were cotton
Breathable
Some days the man-made fiber suffocates
But sentiment makes me hold on helpless
To surrender
Hope
I can’t get away from your dying
Even the everywhere’s I used to go
To hide and grieve
Have the hollow feel
Of bristling poly-fibers
Flammable, like my burning grief
It is early
The flame still burns
But I’ve got a head start
Preparing for good-bye
With the covers pulled up to my hairline
I sang Amazing Grace to you
And then I realized
If you could remember
If you could speak
You would have preferred Bob Dylan
The prophet, the poet, the Nobel Prize receiver
You saw his greatness before the committee
Knocking on heaven’s door
Simple twist of fate
I shall be released
The times they are a-changin
Just like a woman
You Are My Sunshine and Amazing Grace
Let’s pretend they were Dylan’s version
(We needed the words of a poet
We still do)
We both know Dylan could rock
You are my sunshine
elizabeth w. marshall 