We’re a New Use for Memory, Too

Midsummer sun was rising
Two months ago, just cresting
The pines of Pocket Mesa,

Quarter-to-seven a.m.,
A good half an hour, at least,
After official sunrise

And two hours past dawn’s first light,
And the thought cropped up with it
That what imagination

Invented by beginning
Was a fold in cognition,
Overlapping predictions

Brains made for generations
In many other life forms—
A new use for memory—

And, as with all new uses,
The first users, you can bet,
Won’t be the last, nor the best.