Cameron Morse


Theo scissors the tracings 
of trucks I make for 

him to color 

an alphabet of trucks
tears up Mommy’s letter
sheets her elephant
eggplant          excavator 


Groups of atoms
called methyl

latch onto DNA
strands lock

down loose strings 
slowing down 

the myth of
cancer its spread

by word of mouth


The backed up floor 
drain pushes its 
dark puddle toward 
Theo and me

church outreach
soggy bread


Stretched thin 
energies dispersed 

among dish rags 
diaper changes

breath harder 
to catch thought 

ineffable impossible 
to crystalize in 

language          inert 
the inertia of being 

seated wants 
to stay seated always 


Untied tumors [tongue
tied] called wild-type 
tend to progress 

quickly quest
fully fast 

hair falling over their foreheads


The granular animal 
repellant I sock
for the woodpecker

haunting          our eaves

reeks of           garlic
in the garage repelling 
only me           my vampirism

Cameron Morse is Senior Reviews editor at Harbor 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 an 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.