The humdrum conundrum: for Leonora Carrington, Carole Webster

She is figured
on such
strange geometrical
hinges opening

all ways
to a many
fractalled
fabular

sea, it furls
to intendrelling
frills, lipped, cupped
within dimensions

and all the doors
windows, buttons and zips
now open
inwards: in words.

But she knew
this: the hoof, mane, tail,
streaming atmospheres;
hold your palm outstretched

Nell, flat as my
mother would
have it, only
crusts and sugar cubes

to offer to your
galloping particles
of paint and your fingers
remain burned and bitten to

the quick for every
minute the pen is held
stilling black ink
writing a humdrum conundrum

for
this the
duchess Leonora and
painters and poets
and makers are smothered