Aubade
Ay migranita linda, cara migragna mia, it's agony you give me, not joy. So it must be love. I would be rid of you I say by day but by night I call you to my bed. So it must be love. * When did we wed? Remind me. I forget what vows we pledged. In sickness and in health. Or was it health first, then sickness — until death do us part? * Violence, a storm in my head, the familiar battle, then unconditional surrender. Look: I am waving my white flag. Might there be peace now — at least by morning? * Come, darling, the day is nigh. Give me your orders. Then, oh reliable one, kiss me — and be gone! Migraine Variations
By dawn the heart picks at its locked anxieties tick tick right, then left, then right cracking night's latest combination, outsmarting sleep, racing the incipient light yet again. I watch and listen as pain floods my brain. Day glare under and over it aIl I am not drowning; I am thinking hard, trying to find the key, solve the wordless equation— pound + slice + stab equals what? what do you want with me Mandelstam said that after midnight the heart has its banquet, that it gnaws at a silvery mouse. Where is my mouse? Sweet ransom, come to me tonight: be my offering.



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