Lipstick                         

by Gabriella Bedetti

                                             

A herd of jostling heart-shaped leaves,

elephant ears seek the sun.

The dark-veined plants sway in the wind,     

collect water in their cupped leaves

then bend and spill

the rain, a drink for others,                                                    

like their graceful namesakes

who use their trunk for a shower

or flap their velvet ears

to keep cool, spreading them wide

on each side of the head

to look larger in the eyes of the world.

In lush rainforests, parades of elephants

revel in water games, wrestling,

romping in mud baths,

the older elephants teaching

the young ones manners and

how to control their temper.

Nearly as long-lived,

I go bold, astonish                                                      

in Red Rules the World lipstick,

a nodding look-at-me drama queen,
the matriarch drawing on memories

of droughts and survival,

the others walking behind me in single file.

* * * * *

Gabriella Bedetti's essays, poems, and translations have appeared or are forthcoming in New Literary History, Still, Gravel, Asymptote, Ezra, and Rhino. She is a professor of English at Eastern Kentucky University. She received an Artistic Enrichment Grant from the Kentucky Foundation for Women to work on a poetry collection exploring issues of aging and ageism. With two student assistants, she is leading a Collecting Memories Circle at a local retirement community. In June, you can find her blogging on https://lexpomo.com/. She and her spouse are translating Henri Meschonnic’s poems from the French. https://gabriellabedetti.wordpress.com/.​