Southwestern Indian Blanket

by Kean Kaufmann

How strange to see my “Gila-monster” throw.
These lightning-striking shapes of red and black
against the sand and sage (it’s Navajo)
are out of place — but just as much so, back
at home, back East, as here in the Midwest.
It’s warmth in cold, it’s color when it’s hot,
it’s comfort for a small-talk-challenged guest
to say: I’ve got that throw! In that same spot!
Strange, too, to be no more than someone’s spouse.
She asks why I don’t start a family;
I smile and compliment her on her house;
she says high desert’s where she longs to be.
So this is what I share with other wives:
Unnoticed choices decorate our lives.