Day Rose

A few mornings ago,
Light in the window, pulse
In the chest, old music

On a laptop, rucked sheets
Pulled up around the rest.
Were you a body?

You were. Anything more?
The metaphysicians
And scientists confer.

While you wait, are you now
Embodied, any pulse
At all? Well, must be so,

If you’re encountering
These phrases. Memory,
Though, is so slippery.

All those mornings you drove
Up mesas in starlit
Predawn dark, past mule deer

And jackrabbits, to watch
The day begin, glowing
In your brain. Was that you?

God, the air was so clear,
And the River of Souls
So bright. And the day rose.