I’ve lost the morning. It was here, a minute ago. I’m certain: I caught all its clues: the birds waking up at 5, the cats out prowling at 6:30; and the garbage man at 9. and then, of course, there was the light. it just kept rising, filling the sky. I’m sure I had it in my hand. I held it like a shovel or an ax. It was as solid as a kiss, as clear as day. and then I lost it; it slipped by. Now, not a thing remains to dredge it out of memory but memory itself. Already I miss the afternoon, the splendor of the sunset. Already the stars begin to fade.