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| A Twin Toilet, After Rowlandson |
| 作者Author / John Wheelwright |
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A Twin Toilet, After Rowlandson
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We are almost nauseated with mulled sherry and whipped eggs.
Our barbers have filed and rubbed our nails until they are ready to bleed.
They have scraped our cheeks with humming steel
and rubbed them with milky unguents,
making us gasp with shivers down our spines.
As our valets braced their knees against our backs
to lace our stays,
we had to wedge our burning toes against the unyielding funnels
of our boots
and press our chins
against our up-standing neck bands.
They have slightly dampened our kid tights;
some smooth out the wrinkles over our bellies and thighs
while others secure our horsehair waistcoats over our ribs
with buttonhooks.
We flick a ringlet or so into place over our plucked eyebrows.
Our mirrors are most comforting, for at length our natural hair
has acquired the macaroni tone and sheen.
The butlers rub our hats along their arms, we catch
the glint of candles on our lacquered toes.
The brougham is at the door.
We fasten our gloves, we remark to one another
that they pinch our palms into anatomical semblances,
and as the footmen hand us our scented muffs,
that it will tax our self-restraint
to remain amused throughout the evening at Veauxhall. |
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*** This poem is by John Wheelwright, from COLLECTED POEMS OF JOHN WHEELWRIGHT, copyright © 1972 by Louise Wheelwright Damon. Reprinted permission of New Direction of Publishing Corp.
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