The speaker begins with a sudden, strange image: night arrives at noon, just when they were expecting customers. Darkness at midday suggests a disaster, something that blots out ordinary life without warning. The title, "Disaster capitalist," tells us what kind of person is talking: someone who treats a catastrophe as a chance to make money.
What stands out is the flat, practical tone. The speaker doesn't cry out or mourn. They are "made captain / of the ship of loss," which sounds grand, almost like a promotion, though the ship carries only grief. Then comes the cold punchline: "at least I shall get / a little money by it." The words "at least" and "a little" make the speaker sound small and resigned, as if profit is the only comfort left.
The mood is darkly ironic and uneasy. The poem seems to judge this attitude, yet it also hints at how ordinary and almost understandable the impulse can feel when everything else is lost.