Maternal grandma bought the blanket,
Typically tacky, overpriced, under-thought
Gift from grandma, the kind drove Mama crazy.
Scarlet, artificial, satiny on one side, fluffy
As a feather boa on the other. Mama
Derisively named it "the bordello blanket,"
But it was immediately loved by Sukha.
Before long she would sleep under nothing else
But "bordello," fuzzy side down. Linus
Was scarcely more attached to his blanket.
This went on for a couple of years, until
The parents themselves forgot the creepy
Implications of calling a little girl's blankie
"Bordello," shouted casually at rest stops
By the highwayside on long drives, "Have you seen
Her bordello?" Everything is just a thing in the end,
No matter how we tried to constrain it by name.
Then, there was the garish pink stuffed bunny
With outrageously outsized ears, entirely synthetic
Fluff, also from grandma, that morphed from "grandpa rabbit"
To velveteen reality, to a boy bunny, to "bun-bun,"
Who eventually became a girl, replete with a name
As long as her worn, occasionally laundered ears,
"Bun-Bun Pearl Daisy Daffodil Athena Jeffreys,"
Just one of us, as ridiculously and hopelessly
Slathered in unstable nouns and genres as everyone.
Don't get me started on the arrival of "Groovy Girl."