The year is 1934.

Seventeen is my age.

My Daddy is a textile tycoon.

My Mommy is the “handler” of me.

Oh how they hate to be called

Daddy!

Mommy!

— Speak properly, Leonora!

Just more the reason

I keep calling them,

Especially today.

Today I am presented at the court,

Court of King George V.

Mommy is beaming at compliments of my

“Great beauty”,

Because she’s my handler.

And I her carefully trimmed

Poodle.

They admire my expensive dress,

Cream silk, lace, pearls.

Daddy is casually mentioning

The very many thousands of pounds

To have this dress made.

A whole family’s allowance for lifetime,

Crusted over my body,

Telling the world, Leonora is

“FOR SALE!”

Oh what great bore! ——

Can’t pet the dogs

Can’t touch the books

Can’t even talk,

Unless Mommy permits.

Many more hours to go.

Then it’s my books

My paint brushes

And a shrinking lease

On my freedom.

(Inspired by Leonora Carrington)