never had a chance,
so said the  bless-its-heart,
shoulda-coulda-seen-it-coming
shakers of heads (with just a little
too much glee in their downturned eyes).

Today’s poem
squares up its thin shoulders,
checks to make sure
its bootstraps are still there
and walks out the door.

A poet … lifted himself by his own boot-straps from an obscure versifier to the ranks of real poetry.
British Authors of the Nineteenth Century (1936)