Lipstick Forensics

by Marjorie Maddox

Give me the pattern
of pucker clinging so
unsweetly to each cock-
tail glass of seductive
deceit cracked beside
a creased napkin
briefly branded with
blots of Cruel Ruby—
no ambivalent Rorschach
of lips but this identical
XOs match beside a pale
corpse with cheeks
tattooed so beautifully
with the indelible smack
of you, femme fatale,
whose sexy fingerprints,
even now wiped clean,
can’t silence the waxy
poison so proudly
pursing your name,
your telltale moaning
murder of smooch.