Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Beehive Bouffant

Beehive bouffant
backcombed since Kennedy.
Preserved like an heirloom
from happenstance and the whimsy
of the weather -
whether it be wind or rain.

Pearls and a clutch.
Pajamas and slippers.
She waits by the front desk;
surely, he'll come and get her
by nightfall.
Can she call him again?

Then, her low, muttered monologue
soars to a scream,
and her transparent eyes
stare right through me
and she bites like a wildcat
until we're both bleeding
cursing and wailing and raging and pleading
and her beehive bouffant
backcombed since Kennedy
falls

disheveled
as her memories.

For Get Listed at Real Toads

14 comments:

Brian Miller said...

ha. she sounds like a wildcat....made me laugh because my old spanish teacher had the biggest hair...bouffant grande..kinda sad ending though...

Sioux said...

Mama Zen--I haven't thought of a beehive for years. I'm sure the makers of hair spray were sad when that phase ended.

You fish? Wow.

Kay L. Davies said...

So sad, and so well written: "since Kennedy" brought back so many memories.
Under different circumstances, the woman in your poem could be me. So far, however, she isn't, for which I am grateful.
K

hedgewitch said...

I guess if you were a beehive bouffant-brained woman, age would be pretty damn terrifying. It is in this dark cameo, anyway. Great use of the word list, MZ--it is totally consumed in your poem.

Buddah Moskowitz said...

Tragic and poignant. I'm one of those men that like that look, crazy as it is.

Marian said...

yikes, this leaves me really curious about what actually happened, and why.

Susie Clevenger said...

This sounds like my mother. She didn't have a beehive, but she became as disheveled as her memories from Alzheimer's.

Helen said...

Love the intensity (and the beehive.)

Fireblossom said...

Rage, rage against the dying of the...'do?

Robyn Greenhouse said...

So sad how she waits in her pajamas unaware. I wanted to use bouffant but the words didn't come to me. You used it so well here!

Lorraine said...

The imagery here is unbelievable !!!you rock Mama Zen

Kerry O'Connor said...

Wow! You have really run these words through their paces and come up with a slice of life at the same time. Such hard lessons there are to be learnt!

Maggie Grace said...

There is something wrong with my brain that I don't recognize when writing is about Alzheimers or loss of memory with aging. I'm backwards with loss of memory from past. After reading the comments was able to go back and read as it was meant to be. Full impact of how sad it must be to watch a loved one deteriorate and not recognize children and other loved ones. So well done.

my heart's love songs said...

of course the dementia is terrible and terrifying, but at the beginning of the poem i had an immediate visual of my mother ~ hairdresser on Friday, coming home with a bouffant, every night the ritual of wrapping her hair in toilet paper before bed and leaving a cloud of hairspray in her wake. unrelated, but also a thick coating of vaseline on her face {it worked, she got very few wrinkles} and wondering how she ever got laid. {smile}

i never would have guessed that you used a word list!