The Ballad of Lipstick and Comb by Irena Pasvinter

I remember watching you
as you put on your lipstick,
always the same red color,
too bright for my cautious taste.
Oh come on, Grandma, I thought,
why do you even need this,
in your eighties,
with Grandpa long dead?
It’s not like you’re into
catching another husband.
So really, at your age, why bother?
I kept my mouth shut, of course.
What you did with your lips
was none of my business.

And then in the hospital,
when you insisted
on combing your hair each morning
and god, this red lipstick again...
This time I might have
even said something, to Mom:
“Really, why does she bother,
being so ill? Ridiculous,

this lipstick business.”

But now, as I drag myself
out of bed in the morning,
and glance at my ghost
in the bathroom mirror,
I finally get why you did this:
not for me or for men
or for god or for devil —
for yourself,
to feel whole and alive,
to keep going.

Lipstick is still not my thing,
but never mind, I get the idea:
self-respect is a life-time job.
Thank you, Grandma.



Irena Pasvinter divides her time between software engineering, endless family duties and writing poetry and fiction. Her stories and poems have appeared in many online and print magazines. Her poem "Psalm 3.14159..." has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. She is currently looking for a publisher for her first novel. Visit Irena at https://sites.google.com/site/ipscribbling