These So Feminine
Joanna M. Weston
how many aunts make a bustle
gathered behind with flounces
they floated staircases at night
perfumed and coiffed for kissed hands
their well-imagined beaux flaunted
lemon silk gloves acid as forgetfulness
tongues grooved gossip on long rails
sneers and smears painted over brocade
who knew them before the fall of petals
men flew to war leaving parasoled patriots
aunts emptied of children whirled flags
nursed vacant sleeves in strict waltz-time
evacuated stately homes for burnt warriors
gained heroism by learning to live