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.
