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# System prepended metadata

title: Lipstick

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# Lipstick
**by Liza Wolff-Francis**

red for the whore 
you called me, pink 
for the party girl,
any color at all 
to call a man,
color determines 
which man comes 
(or if one comes at all, 
perhaps). Lipstick, 
once not 
for feminist lips, 
now shapes words 
of liberation of 
equality, of rising 
up, of justice. 

Lipstick, a mask, 
a disguise, enhance-
ment, fantasy,
for you, for me.
 
Lipstick, or 
lack of it, 
may define, out-
line, ignore what 
or who you 
call me, high-
light who 
I call myself. 

Lipstick leaves 
lip mark graffiti 
on glass, on 
cheeks, on 
teacups out 
of the dishwasher,
the only way 
some of us
are remembered
at all.

Is it on my teeth?