Lionera Skimgold (poem)
Lionera Skimgold
Lionera Skimgold had been almost a cavalier
She had ankle-wedged herself with camelotish
Leanings on the leap from Maid of the Chambers
With blunt scissors cut into Eleanor of Aquitaine’s court
And then her pointless tendency to make herself cozy
Tripped her down to a town council
One might picture Lionera apologetic, coy
Not overmuch, yet Skimgolds obviously chumming
Types, up with cat’s-eye-spectacles-wearing customers
Like unto their own shoulder-caped sleeves of cashmere
Never luxury, only most practical cash
Layouts on simple black longevity in cardigans
Skimgolds those tee crossing chapettes invariably clerks
But a Lionera must this somewhat contradict
And to the question introduce a catch
Why should her mother yield to such caprice
Wartime romance was it with a dashing captain
The clan’s undying oath upon a forfeited castle
Is the name said short i-ed as might be in the old country
Does the amiable-faced vest-clad collector
Of postcards from the golden age of steam cruisers
Feel his favorite researcher has charismatic
Emberings that flare crimson in the heart of a crusader
Does his own answer as the charger to the cornet
Does she find within an ashy tome a charm
By mistake, then, do they vanish at the chanting
Thereby coming by these carven words full circle
Or is Miss Skimgold a sixties’ sexist’s typist coifed
In bouffant over hair-form colored crass
Sleeveless turtleneck, knocked-off doubleknit Chanel
Archibald Tebbs, her paramour’s, red sports car crashing
Just as she takes her glasses off and pops in a cassette
He vaults the balcony uncorking champagne
Against the doorframe leans without chalance
Mirrored shades he tosses on the chenille
Then a bullet streaking in disrupts like censorship
Lionera Skimgold
(2018, Stephanie Foster)