Utter Blame: Fifteenth Tattersby
‘De Clieux reports the Celtic daughter could be raised—
His bride full willing,’ the host, sardonic, says
‘So far south as Quimper; the Contessa di Baruchi
Has invited them to stay.
And what can be the meaning of that puppy-doggish eye…?’
He demands of the guest. No sense being envious.
‘Hardly that. It’s the keenness of pursuit, however…mission!
To marry for science!’ He sighs.
‘I’ve got nowhere whatsoever with my own.’
And doodles on his pad, St. Crispin’s
As usual, and why they pack their bags
Simon Tattersby floats about the place moaning to himself
And Roscoe, when he does not rattle pipes,
Wafts away the pen the host has just set down
Or sings them dirty limericks through the night
‘Miss Keltenham will bring her publicity agent’
The host pronounces this title very foreign
‘Well after all’—offers the guest, who seems to apologize for everyone
—‘they make pictures from her books, I suppose she needs one’
Virginia Keltenham, Simon’s voice comes to them
Buttonholed me once, looking for Fiona
Desperate to write a romance with a ghost in it
(copyright 2017 Stephanie Foster)