My grandmother’s quilt

by Tyler Bigney

I’m watching you sleep,
studying the light brown freckles
on your shoulders. I can feel your feet
press up against me
under the quilt my grandmother
knit me for Christmas.
If she only knew that I met you
hours before
at a bus station
and paid three hundred dollars
for you to sleep
naked next to me
to make me feel
something, or
anything at all -

she’d be disappointed.