"Aubade on East 12th Street" by August Kleinzahler
The skylight silvers
and a faint shudder from the underground
travels up the building's steel.
Dawn breaks across this wilderness
of roofs with their old wooden storage tanks 5
and caps of louvered cowlings
moving in the wind. Your back,
raised hip and thigh
well-tooled as a rounded baluster
on a lathe of shadow and light. 10
[1996]
The setting and context of the poem is perhaps contrary to
what one may expect. When Kleinzahler
describes “Dawn breaks across this wilderness,” one almost expects a tree line
or a mountain range, but the only wood on this landscape is found in the “old
wooden storage tanks” atop buildings, and the only mountain “caps” are “caps of
louvered cowlings/moving in the wind.”
This setting breaks away from the more traditional and natural
description of a sunset, though the way Kleinzahler writes, the buildings
create an aesthetic to rival the grandeur of a mountain range. After describing the morning sun breaking
over the breath taking cityscape, he describes the woman to whom this aubade is addressed, spending
an entire stanza on her “well-tooled” sensuous features and comparing her form to
“a lathe of shadow and light,” breaking the morning light as the buildings did,
if not better. He relates the woman’s
beauty to that of a city skyline; the parallelism between the two strongly
hints at the parallel beauty of both, especially in the morning light. Given the context that the poem is an aubade,
a song to one’s love, similar to a serenade (only, while a serenade is done at
night, an aubade is performed in the morning), these comparisons make sense:
the poem is dedicated to the woman he loves, and to her beauty, which is enhanced
by the beauty of the cityscape and exceeds it wholly. In this poem, Kleinzahler attempts to utilize
the beautiful setting to impress the woman with an aubade, dedicated to her sumptuous
form, which breaks the morning sun like the city skyline.
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