The London Magazine - - CONTENTS - Robert Ham­berger

We took leave of each other at the en­trance to Trafal­gar Square tube sta­tion. A ca­sual wave of the hand and a smil­ing glance was all the cer­e­mony…four days later he was dead.

Keith Vaughan, Jour­nals 15th Au­gust 1940

My brother is ris­ing again be­tween the lions and foun­tains – a quiet man dazed by pi­geons.

Wa­ter spills from the bronze snouts of dol­phins, while sum­mer crowds shift around him, as if breath­ing

is the sim­plest act. Ice-blue linen loosens at his shoul­der, unravels, trails like a scarf.

He’s haul­ing him­self free from the wreck­age, onto pave­ments in the air’s cool re­lief.

Could there be some re­luc­tance to re­turn? Pi­geons scat­ter – a blather of wings, with bel­lies and beaks. He sways

among them, source of their flight, each bird’s con­fu­sion a feather of panic that as­cends, like his breath, into sky.

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