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)