My sister screamed
and beat the green formica table top
She had walked into the kitchen as my mother
plunged a lobster into an
angry pot
of scalding water
My mother lifted her and
placed her on a stool
scolding her for reacting
so violently as if her
act
was more
brutal than boiling
someone alive
Placated later with chunks of
soft squishy
flesh drenched in yellow
butter
that made the ends
justify the
(what does it) mean
The lobster burned within
stainless
steel
Just as we have grown weary of our own
Festivities; casting off our colorful splendour and
Marching off to sleep, hibernating for a while.
All the dog-eared leaves turned a yellowed-brown;
May be that we won't read them for some time.
Joking as we get into bed, not yet ready to sleep,
Jewels glinting in our eyes though they are closed,
August hands that end life and chill to the bone
Sear me each time in their cyclical grasp.
Only lasting a short while but
Never any less threatening.
That lipstick doesn't go with your
skin tone at all. But the foundation
color makes it seem almost
natural. Your smile glimmers from the
glossed page and lips,
and I know you have smiled eight
hours this day and are groaning inside.
Do I wanna look like you with your
creamy skin and shining
eyes and plastic,
store-bought
perfection?
And your slim trim
waistline circled by golden links
and feet encased in spikes
which you have been twisting
and writhing in, seducing
your photographer? You
are the real thing, baby ... you piss off
average women who work real jobs for less money
and will never look like you. You are
the basis of thousands of teenage boys' masturbatory fantasies.
Yes, you.
Of course,
I want to look like you, I want
your body and lean figure
but I don't want to live on
lemon wedges, celery sticks, champagne and Lucky
Strikes. I don't want
the burden of artificial beauty, with
permed and colored
hair, eight layers of makeup and a push-up bra.
I would rather be
NATURAL
me, free; wearing ripped sweatpants
sitting ungraciously on a sofa with a slobbery dog
and a bag of Doritos. I want to enjoy life
without three hours of morning
primping and eating
nothing more than a carrot stick.
I'm so glad you are there
wearing your Raisin Rage
looking so feminine even if
that lipstick doesn't go with your skin
when I bet it would match mine
just right.
crown o' gems | darkwaves+larkwings sky
jewel@gleeful.com
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