Cameron Morse

Death Christmas Ornamentof my unspeakable mousehunt in this hauntedhouse, scrabblingin the wall, a welcomemat stitchedfrom oak leaves, a stomachstuffed with leftoverquiche. I am enjoyingmy layover hereat Burger King. The lettuceis so fresh and tasty, the Whopperoverwhelming. Its charcoaltang, airplane boomerang, homefor the holidays. Deviledeggs bedevil me.

Dream Poem Trapped in an appI’m sure has swallowedmy iPhone I amsearching for an emailin my Hotmailcontaining my appt. timeunsure what timezone I’m in, telehealthingmy oncologist I’vesomehow amassed an audienceon Netflix for this virtualvisit scheduled to be our lastbecause Salacz is moving to NewJersey now and that’s whenyou kissed me on the mouthwith my eyes closed and I realizedI have been waiting for yourbook order for my wholeentire life, Alberta, even thoughthe postage you paidcouldn’t begin to cover my expenses.

I Wanted to Write a Poem A bug being slowlysquashed is whattoday feels like, howthe pressure in mytemples is perhaps a heel.However I twist willonly intensify the starein which I am all bug,all baby, and unentitledto the privileges of a fullblown human. Todaythere will be no break,no reprieve from the orangeslime of lunch, the goopof eggplant, so I bury my headand slurp. Spill hatredover the table’s edge. Play deadfor the tumor in my head, donsweatpants and let the kids steamroll and bulldoze me through naptime.Let shame for wanting bully mespeechless, spellbound. Allowmy sleeping brain to mend.

Cameron Morse's poems have been published in numerous magazines, including New Letters, Bridge Eight, South Dakota Review, Portland Review and The Indianapolis Review. My first collection, Fall Risk, won Glass Lyre Press’s 2018 Best Book Award. My latest is Far Other (Woodley Press, 2020).