Blood and Guts: Helena Lazaro
I know it's not an embarrassing story about getting wasted, but it's something.
December 4, 2005 04:54 PM

Today I cleaned out an old box and found a scrap of paper with the first four lines of this poem on it. They were written before my grandmother died. So today I decided to finish it.


it goes in the top drawer

my grandmother
was always prepared
a row of safety pins
lined the inside hem of her dress
like an army of tiny metal soldiers
ready for any catastrophe
her top bureau drawer
was the arsenal
of feminine mystique
well-stocked
with the necessary implements
emery boards
perfumed dusting powder
scented creams
buttery leather gloves
and perfect beaded handbags
that glittered
in the light

my grandmother's fingers
(with fingernails
delicate ovals
painted the faintest pink)
they could play the piano
and make needlepoint scenes
in a crisp white
handkerchief
they moved
always
like little birds
it was as if
they were weightless

when i looked into
the coffin
i saw her nails
were bare
i knew
she would have wanted them
sculpted and smooth
flawless and ready
to meet god
like a lady
and i worry how
they will grow and grow
underground
without anyone to trim them
curling into themselves
like budding fern leaves
like snail shells
like dark things
in the mossy earth
i don't want to think of her
that way

i'd rather keep her
like a collection of
scented mysteries
or a soft and flawless
canary
singing
the tiniest
most beautiful
song


More poetry
Comments

There is an eternal manicurist in heaven. She is keeping grandma's hands beautiful.
Did you know she had a pedicure two days before she passed?

Love
Mom

PS We need your Ch. list.

Posted by: MOM on December 4, 2005 10:23 PM

I like that. Except it makes me feel sorry for the poor bitch who gets stuck working forever in heaven doing mani/pedis.

:)

All I want for Christmas is Fried Yucca and lots of it!

Posted by: Helena on December 4, 2005 10:54 PM

This is really good, Helena! Strong images, first lines sucked me right in.

Oh, and fingernails don't grow after death, that's a myth. Fingernails appear longer on a body after death only because... well, maybe I shouldn't get into it. Ha! I wrote a poem about that once. :)

Posted by: John K. on December 5, 2005 02:51 AM

Grandma was such a lady.
Whenever I would say hello or good-bye I would always make sure my hair and my clothing were in place. Yes even my mini skirts.

Posted by: edna on December 5, 2005 11:59 AM

i feel sorry for the lady stuck doing the mani/pedis too. is there never an end to cuticles and toe jam, even in heaven?

great poem, as usual. :)

Posted by: ms. sizzle on December 5, 2005 01:24 PM

Light. Dark. Light. Is it okay that I was scared there for a moment?

I'm not sure if we have to worry about our fingernails after we die, but one thing your grandmother doesn't have to worry about is being forgotten.

Posted by: Eddie on December 5, 2005 03:22 PM

John-Thanks! That means a lot to me. And I'm glad about the fingernails. That always gave me the heebie jeebies.

Edna-Maybe that's why she remembered you so well :)

Ms. Sizz-Thanks for your sweet comments, as usual!

Eddie-Yes, scared is good. Just a little. ;)

Posted by: Helena on December 7, 2005 04:04 PM

Damn. That was powerful.
I am thorughly impressed.

You once said that your stuff is not slam material. Shit. That has "I'll kick new dimensions into your shallow ass in a slam with my emo as I want to be poem" written all over it.

Anyway, forget about that, I never read BB13. Let alone slam it, so dont listen to me. I am so duplicitous.

When it is time, will you honor Green with that?

Posted by: Tarous on December 8, 2005 09:33 PM

That means a lot Tarous :) Thanks. I wouldn't mind reading my emo shit, I like to bum people out. But I'm more afraid they'll just be all, *yawn* and not even listen. I'll read it, and say it was your idea ;)

But I won't wear any butterfly wings, I promise.

Posted by: Helena on December 8, 2005 10:03 PM

:)

Posted by: korn on December 9, 2005 11:10 PM

:)

Posted by: john k. on December 9, 2005 11:10 PM

you were tagged, won't you play?

http://www.pauldavidson.net/2005/12/10/it-may-not-be-a-great-poem-but-its-mine-and-i-like-it-that-way

Posted by: anon on December 14, 2005 10:28 AM

Yes, I will play. Tomorrow I'll be back at work again (I've had flu) and I will choose my victim....mwahaha!

Posted by: Helena on December 14, 2005 10:11 PM
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