I removed a few loose hairs

from the century-old blanket,

 

still intact besides several battle scars

and unexpected juice spills.

 

I wrapped it around my exposed thighs

and remembered nights of using it

 

as an impenetrable knight shield

or torturous whip for my sisters.

 

I held it tighter to my chest, and I can

still feel the calm voice of my grandmother

 

echo through its porous threads:

Listen, child, listen.