Five siblings inherit a blanket. They lie beneath it, together, to stay warm.
          But arms and legs stick out and the siblings squabble and tug. They do
          not realize that they would all fit if they just moved closer together.

This is the Blanket Story. Poets, artists, and musicians have responded to this tale in creative ways. All poems appear here, our ONLINE POETRY SHOWCASE. Visit our main page to find out more about the project.

Christina Woś Donnelly

Jacob/Esau

 My baby sister stole my birthright.
Even now I’m not sure how.
Was it just by being born?

From age one, I was commanded
to be wiser, self-controlled:
“Defer to the brat.”
I did as I was told.  So,

she raised her voice, and waters parted.
She raised her fist, and blessings flowed.
She bit me; I stood condemned
for striking back in self-defense.

Ages passed.

I learned to love the tandem clutch of hand on heel. 
I gladly go before, prepare the way. 
The scars on shoulders, back and hands have healed.  
One faded away.

I still stand close enough for biting.