Regular Poem: I Wear Dusty Rose, Myself

8 Apr

It’s funny at first–
the woman knows it’s not her lipstick
on her straying lover’s collar
because her lipstick
is baby pink
whereas the evidentiary lipstick
is red.
She knows
it’s not her shade;
therefore, the lipstick has
told a tale on her beau–
and it’s also convicted
her best friend.

The lipstick’s a match.
Case closed.

She’s good at lipstick, but
not as good as
our expert witness,
Wynonna.

Connie knows it’s red,
but Wynonna knows her
unfaithful man’s lipstick is
strawberry red.

That’s very specific,
and I can respect that
attention to detail.

Now is this just a general color, though?
Or is she sure of the brand and
everything?

And I want to ask why
she can identify distinct lipsticks
from smudged samples on fabric
but doesn’t have better
taste in men,
but
she probably just has a gift for it–
lipstick comes to her,
colors speak to her.

Men may speak to her, too.
But she knows they’re lying
only when
the lipstick tells her so.

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