Entry One
my mother said,
drawing her weapon of choice: *Desert Rose* —
a muted shade,
soft but deliberate.
That was her southern kind of beauty:
the power to say nothing,
while making you reflect on everything.
Lipstick can be performative —
a press, a swipe,
a ritual.
Resistance, quiet and quick.
Always there.
Always hers.
In her hand, lipstick—
a small reminder:
she was still here,
still human.