Granny

A person standing slightly hunched with their hands on their knees. They have full, short hair cut to the bottom of their ears. They wear glasses, a long sleeveless dress, a layered necklace, and bracelets on both wrists. They hold a lit cigarette in their left hand.

In New York

we stay at Mom’s

growing-up house in Queens,

my hitman grandfather now

kicked out for having a mistress,

where Mom’s mom has stopped

taking bullshit from anybody.

Mom’s mom is “Granny,”

but ironically,

she never cooks or bakes or sews,

dresses chic

works in publishing

smokes with graceful flourish

forever trying

to lose ten pounds.

She and Mom

in the kitchen discuss

how they long to shed their

big, wide butts

The Family Curse

while playing hairdresser

with boxes

of wavy, blond beauty.

A circular ashtray with a cigarette butt and a lit cigarette inside.

I beg Granny until she agrees

to give my straight, stringy hair

a home permanent

to match Mom’s.

The rotten egg smell

chases cigarette smoke

from the small

yellow kitchen.

Granny wraps sections of hair

in paper squares,

rolls it

tighter than I imagined

on thin pink plastic rods,

stops to draw from

a lipstick-covered butt,

and warns

“perms are unpredictable.”

A box labeled ‘Toni Silkwave: For Hard-to-Wave Hair.’ The upper arm of the ‘T’ of ‘Toni’ extends to the left and right edges of the box and has ‘For Body, Waves, or Curls’ written inside. Above this arm is the face of a person with voluminous curls and freckles. In a triangle in the top left corner, ‘Price Marked is $1.00 off Regular Price’ is written. ‘One Application’ is written in the bottom right corner.

Predictably

frizz frizz frizz

my perm looks nothing like Mom’s soft curls.

I’m miles from

the glamorous girl on the box

and realize that family curse

is hitting me hard

right where I sit.