A Queer Cargo

A fistfart of daisies;
exchanged in lieu of
services to necromancy;
after all only she knows
wherein the bodkins are buried

Warne and Marsh morbidly dismissed overnight;
limited seers commit
to one day oversights concluding
‘Conviction cricket has a….
–The the trail dries up, goes cold

As if it only were…

‘I loved her.’
La Rue whispered & unleashed a
restive turd:
…a Nightjar rang out in Berkeley Square