Poem Half Aubade Half Nocturne
Mother wakes to drowse around the ambling stacks of morning.
Father stalks the market in the black thief's hood of night.
Mother nestles deeper in her vulpine fur tonight.
Father tugs the distant kite of morning.
Mother splays her Tarot cards: Ten Coins, Hanged Man, Morning.
Father elects the Réti Opening, beginning with a knight.
Mother, immodest in her peril, blows a scandalous kiss to night.
Father's sleep's a bug that inches up the twitching face of morning.
MOTHER: My white peignoir glimmers like an auroral morning.
FATHER: My latest memoir dishes on the demimonde of night.
Mother patters to confessors through the night.
Father's blithering witness must remain alive till morning.
Mother sips from the golden Amaretto; it is morning.
Father perishes from fever in the night.
Mother with her traveling clothes, her stiff bouquet of asters in the night.
Father, breakfasted on amphetamines, cranks the Klieg light of morning.
Mother thrusts her Goodyear blimp: "GOOD MORNING."
Father's foreman bulldozes the spire in Starry Night.
Mother's scientist isolates the gene sequence of night.
Father, armored, penetrates the chasmic lymph of morning.
Mother vanishes in the faint desoxyephedrine first light of morning.
Father counters—an Attaque au Fer—the scimitar of night.
Mother basks most handsome in the night.
Father wastes the empire in the morning.
Mother's terrible spirit animal: morning.
Father's body immolates like night.
Mother sculpts a monument to mourn the fall of night.
Father trips his metronome: morning, night, morning, night, morning.