Lipstick



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.


Weaving by Karen Monson-Thompson

Connie Wanek has been writing poems since childhood. She is the author of three books of poetry, most recently On Speaking Terms from Copper Canyon Press, and she has been the recipient of several awards, including the Willow Poetry Prize and the Jane Kenyon Poetry Prize. She was named a Witter Bynner Fellow of the Library of Congress by United States Poet Laureate Ted Kooser. In 2009 Wanek was named the George Morrison Artist of the Year, an honor given to a northern Minnesotan for contributions to the arts over many years. She lives in the country outside Duluth, Minnesota, but often finds herself in a green tent somewhere in the Boundary Waters wilderness.

"You can tear a poem apart to see what makes it tick... You're back with the mystery of having been moved by words. The best craftsmanship always leaves holes and gaps... so that something that is not in the poem can creep, crawl, flash or thunder in."
-Dylan Thomas