Poem: Lot 271.
Lot 271.
.
.
They may just be two ostrich eggs
bought in an auction room bid
but they are a wonderment.
Born of Rider Haggard stories
and dreams of Ursula Andress as She.
Born of places in a green encyclopedia
studied at great childhood lengths
on a small leatherette settee.
The kind with brass studs
and those black velvet painted cushions.
.
.
