Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Beauty



I stole beauty from another girl--

Ripped it right out of her hands

In a hail of cosmetics and hairspray,

Then ghosted away with it to my underground lair.

But when I tried to bash it open,

The lock wouldn't budge

And anyway, it wasn't my size.



I took it to my mother's house and dropped it dead center on her holiday table--

Shrieking, I raked my broken fingernails right down to the bone of love and hatred that props us together, and she

Embraced

The locked

Foreign

Beauty that I ripped off from some bitch on the bus,

And said, "Daughter,

At last!

Welcome home."

12 comments:

Shelley said...

I like the twist at the end, here. And could I ask you to stop by my friend's blog at Sassafras Mama?

I think y'all could relate (based on life experiences, not current interests).

Cynthia said...

This is a very powerful poem Shay,
you give us the hurt of the daughter and the "character of the
mother, without the reader realizing how deep this poem will
go, well-written, indeed.

dustus said...

Speaks of many instincts. I like it. On an unrelated note, I didn't know you hate haiku. lol

hedgewitch said...

Very fitting little screed to pull out of the back pocket for this prompt. Cuts to the bone of a lot of different but related things, love and image, desire, that whole evil mother thing...those last lines made me physically shudder.

Glad I got a chance to read this,...and see that avatar.

okoatokewa - the poet said...

You definitely got a unique way of using terms to takes your reader along with you in a journey, nicely done.

blueoran said...

O mothers, don't let your daughters grow up to be poets. They will take your inventory better than Peter at the Golden Gate. Daughters, don't let your mothers steal your lipstick.- Brendan

Brian Miller said...

3 years ago...you knew this prompt was coming 3 years ago...can you tell me this weeks lotto numbers?

my son just started playing baseball the male equivilant of beauty...and to hear parents...they are 6...yeah i get this...

repressedsoul said...

Haven't they done a film about this type of mother? Psycho or something lol...Shay very strong words here, and a wholly unique insight on the prompt

Ami Mattison said...

Bwahahahaha! I didn't you'd met my mother!

Mama sends me Bible verses, and I'm thinking of sending her this poem...

Clever, clever commentary on beauty and mothers' expectations for daughters. Always a pleasure to read your poetry, my friend!

Aquarius63 said...

"I raked my broken fingernails right down to the bone of love and hatred that props us together"

Sometimes needs must. Love the passion in your words.

Anita.

Lolamouse said...

Even as adults we still try to please our mothers and fail and fail and fail...and then we become mothers and swear we won't do it to our daughters and yet somehow we do.

flipside records said...

Wow, how painful to only be loved when you are pretending to be someone else.

My favorite part:
"raked my broken fingernails right down to the bone of love and hatred that props us together"

I love Brendan's comment. :) Scary thought!