2010 FRQ #1

        My sister and I were in love

        with Meema’s Indian blanket.

        We fell asleep under army green

        issued to Daddy by Supply.

5      When Meema came to live with us

        she brought her medicines, her cane,

        and the blanket I found on my sister’s bed

        the last time I visited her.

        I remembered how I’d planned to inherit

10    that blanket, how we used to wrap ourselves

        at play in its folds and be chieftains

        and princesses.

        Now I’ve found a quilt (1)

        I’d like to die under;

15    Six Van Dyke brown squares,

        two white ones, and one square

        the yellowbrown of Mama’s cheeks.

        Each square holds a sweet gum leaf

        whose fingers I imagine

20    would caress me into the silence.

        I think I’d have good dreams

        for a hundred years under this quilt,

        as Meema must have, under her blanket,

 25   among her yellow sisters,

        their grandfather’s white family

        nodding at them when they met.

        When their father came home from his store

        they cranked up the pianola

30    and all of the beautiful sisters

        giggled and danced.

        She must have dreamed about Mama

        when the dancing was over:

        a lanky girl trailing after her father

35    through his Oklahoma field.

        Perhaps under this quilt

        I’d dream of myself,

        of my childhood of miracles,

        of my father’s burnt umber (2) pride,

40    my mother’s ochre (3) gentleness.

        Within the dream of myself

        perhaps I’d meet my son

        or my other child, as yet unconceived.

        I’d call it The Century Quilt,

45    after its pattern of leaves.

        Reprinted by permission of Louisiana State University Press from Mama’s               Promises by Marilyn Nelson Waniek. Copyright © 1985 by Marilyn Nelson             Waniek.

        dreamed she was a girl again in Kentucky