Five Poems By Cameron Morse

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Pic by Robert Goldenowl

 

 

Focal Seizures

These small smells
that last a few
seconds

little signals
signposts

whiffs of
the trail he’s
picking up on

the narrative
thread lost
trailhead

*

A warrior forages
wild mushrooms

Peels, slices, lets sit
cloves of garlic

The wild patient
enumerates
turkey tail lion
mane milk
thistle blackseed

combing the understory
with the burred net
of his beard

*

One tumor shrinks
half the size
of a pea

a princess wouldn’t
feel. Another warts
the nostril

bewitching
the resection cavity

hollow mirror
hologram

*

Snowstorm day of
the big feast I tend
to the oven’s tray
of browning potatoes

while Lili showers
then dries her hair
wrapped in a towel


 

Memory Loss

Jumbled conversations
a kind of Jenga
of the mind

each word perched

wobbling plank
gingerly laid
upon plank

*

Debulked but due
to size could not complete

the sentence
a resection of the section

you remember best
a partial print

on the eyeball of the victim

*

Lili asks if my left

grip’s loosening
my hold

on the world
I inhabit

our world
trying to get pregnant

*

Blank of memory loss
lost dog of the self

that library book
you returned or so
you swear on the phone
with the librarian
asking her to check the shelf


 

Hey Jude

Lili belting hey
Jude from the bath
room

Theo who hates music
his booster seat
mimicry

Take a poop
song and make it
better

*

Hard to imagine
a better place

but we are always
going to one

in the mouths of
the people

we leave behind

*

You can stop
matching your socks now

You can stop folding
your underwear

*

Counting train cars
you pick a still
point

a fencepost chimney
stack doghouse

Don’t skip ahead
or lag behind

You may
have to stand still
a long time
before you reach the end

octogenarian


 

Gravity

Weight as yearning
not still but
pulling

Theo’s outraged stack
of train tracks

[Let’s play tug o’ war
with the Earth]

a frayed rope
the dog’s

gnawing on

*

Tidal drag
of his blankie

trailing behind
emblematic

of his attachment
Icarus its blue

whales print
providing

the moniker
“whales”

*

Teleologically
I feel drawn
to you

the draw drawn
shawl of moonlight
a drippy faucet

of thoughts
I can’t turn off

*

Gravity bows
the bookshelves

with books on parenting

Breakthrough the Whole
Brained Aroma
Therapy Emotionally
Intelligent Diapers
to Dating How to Talk
so Kids Will Listen

*

Theo wakes up
crying incoherently

Idiot standing
at the door

I listen for a reason


 

Imago

A nurse collecting

testimonies about body
image in the neuro
oncology field

pins down the details
in a glass box
my iPhone

her butterfly collection

*

Chrysalis
cracked open

some final version
a director’s cut

exclusive interview

*

Imago, I
phone apple ID

face
Book profile

*

On steroids
avoid mirrors

a void where once
I saw myself

defined flexed
active gym

member now moon
face pregnant


 

About the Author

Cameron Morse is Senior Reviews editor at  Review, a poetry editor at Harbor Editions, and the author of six collections of poetry. His first, Fall Risk, won Glass Lyre Press’s 2018 Best Book Award. His latest is Far Other (Woodley Press, 2020). He holds and MFA from the University of Kansas City—Missouri and lives in Independence, Missouri, with his wife Lili and two children. For more information, check out his Facebook page or website.