By: Mary Kiser
Night shrouds his winding sheet over day,
And stars ogle at his dissolute display.
Intemperate invitations from cities clothes
Offer licentious lights like beacons that bellow from
below.
His omnipresence entices prurient purpose,
And derides the sun's intrusive housewife circus.
Night forbids churches, parishioners, nuns, and the like.
He desires debauchees who spit in the style of debutante
polite.
There can be forgiveness in the honest fright from Night.
Day is just another lie in crowned right.
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