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