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.