MEN WILL WATCH PAINT DRY.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A woman's mother and her utterances through dementia.

Submitted: August 26, 2009

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Submitted: August 26, 2009

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Men will watch paint dry
If it reminds them of women
Undressing, your mother once said,
Lying back in her bed, in reply to
Your talk of your husband’s failings.

That was one of many utterances
That came through the fog of her
Dementia, others slipped through
At odd moments when it seemed
Her mind had set like some
Blancmange of dead cells;
Your father was not like that at all,
He preferred Jewesses in red dresses,
Was one of her best and yet disturbing
Comments, coming out suddenly like
Some ancient ship through a thick
Mist, all in full mast, her sails billowing.

Even now gazing out at a cold sky,
You remember her mutterings, her
Pearls of wisdom, coming from
The aged oyster of her mouth,
That final one, that last utterance
Before the shutters went down on
Her fragile mind, still rings in your
Mind, brings a smile to your face:
You should have married your cousin,
Kept madness in the family without disgrace.


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