Diane Hine (25 July 1956)
Mr Hugbo Tips a Missing Brougham
I sat pondering cryptic clues, drowsy
in the park and noticed on a rose
gum bough, a mute songbird wearing a homburg.
I stared, not impolitely, but like an owl.
Beak ajar, his wings crimped furbelows
in air, as if styling hair. A coiffeur?
“Oh goody, ” I said, “I like charades too;
chariot..Ben Hur? swordplay..crown..Hotspur?
Don’t go, ” I said. He flew. I went back to
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