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26 Oct 2008 07:48 am
A Poem For Sunday
Lipstick by Connie Wanek
She leaned over the sink,
her weight on her toes,
and applied lipstick
in quick certain strokes,
the way a man signs
his hundredth autograph
of the morning.
She tested a convictionless smile
as the lipstick retracted
like a red eel.
All day she left her mark
on everything she kissed,
even the air,
like intoxicating news
whispered from ear to ear:
He left it all to me.
(Photo: Sergio Dionisio/Getty.)
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