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Column 614

Just Red

Intro by Ted Kooser
12.25.2016

There are times when a sin­gle word in a poem is so per­fect a choice that it pops like a fire­crack­er, and I’ll let you guess which word did that for me. A hint: it’s a mod­i­fi­er. The poem is by Anya Kru­gov­oy Sil­ver, who lives in Geor­gia, from her new book, From Noth­ing, from LSU Press. 

Just Red

I stand in Walgreens while my mother sleeps.
The store is fluorescent and almost empty.
My father is ailing in a nursing home,
my friend is dying in the hospital.
What I want tonight is lipstick.
As pure a red as I can find—no coral
undertones, no rust or fawn. Just red.
Ignoring the salespeople, I untwist tubes
and scrawl each color on my wrist,
till the blue veins beneath my skin
disappear behind smeared bars. I select one.
Back in my mother's apartment, silence.
I limn my lips back out of my wan face.
There they are again: smacky and wanting.

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Disclaimer

We do not accept unsolicited submissions

We do not accept unsolicited submissions. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2016 byAnya Krugovoy Silver, “Just Red,” from From Nothing,(Louisiana State University Press,2016). Poem reprinted by permission o fAnya Krugovoy Silver and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2024 by The Poetry Foundation.

Column 613