To Come Undone, and: If Barbie Had a Brain

To Come Undone

My mother used to say lipstick was bestmanners, praised the importance of putting on

a good face. Add to the list: the padded bra,slip & girdle clothes-pinned to the line.

The nakedness of women without makeupused to shock me, their blemishes & pores.

Be a lady everywhere except the bedroom.

There was the braless summer my aunt didn'tshave armpits, legs, anything, too much skunk

running wild in her appearance. We sang"American Girl" before she met the Wolfman

who hid her behind dark glasses. Face dolled uplike Redbook, how she bent herself in his moods.

Beauty is skin deep, but ugly is to the bone.

My father used to call my mother's name,& she'd drop everything & go. It startled me, the urgency of something wrong, misplaced—his keys, a shoe. But those affairs he had

for years, after she gave up college to marry,fueled three degrees at choke-down speed.

Make sure you can take care of yourself.

I learned to say no, to outlast the silence.Tired of hours, contortions to please,

I cut my own hair & let myself go.Those bare-faced women I used to study,

whose eyes scolded mine, knew one dayI'd shrug at my own face & say, So?

If Barbie Had a Brain

No, I mean if Barbie could talk,she would tell you she's starved

for more than an eyeful's attention,ass clenched tight, kind of holding,

asphyxiated from sucking in, waitingto stop the tiptoe. She objects

to being posed, back aching, endinghorizontal & naked, because

her clothes are too much of a hassle,your illusion, undressed. She knows

about the curb, where your things tendto end & wants you to know

doll patience is painted.