That's the name of a suite for piano by Darius Milhaud, but could also apply to my own household . This linkleads to the abstract for my husband's latest publication. His interest in motion camouflage inspired the making of one of the poems in my Multiverse:
By the time our father bolted
from his sickbed to squeeze
the nurse’s breast, we’d worked
ourselves into a frenzy of waiting.
When he fell back on the pillow,
he’s sleeping, we whispered.
He can’t hear our words’ mad buzz.
Outside, a dragonfly, transparent
wings on a blue-tinged stick,
hovered above a broken cricket
dragging through backyard thatch.
It rose up, sudden as a mind changing,
and the room sagged with breath
held against the last thing we wanted
to see: a pair of wings escaping,
the world left out of reach.