Dave Bonta imagines morning light as a force that reshapes everything it touches. The opening promise, that it "will right all," sets the tone: this is a light that corrects and renews. But its methods are odd. It turns half a head into "a little room," as if the mind becomes a small, bright space to stand in. It turns a body part into rope, and lets a peach loose on a glass of wine, a playful, slightly wicked picture of indulgence.
The speaker seems to welcome all this. Being given "a now / to be a patient of" suggests slowing down, waiting, and letting the moment work on you, like someone receiving care. The final image, light "like blood / in a simple lily," feels quiet and alive at once. Judging by the imagery, the mood is a mix of calm, wonder, and mild surrealism. Morning here is not just pleasant; it is quietly strange, and a little healing.