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)