Curbside television I surveil
myself shuffling, dragging my left leg
through dry leaves. Omi
pocketing acorns, goes down
on her knees, tripping. When you can’t see
your steps it helps
to shuffle a little bit. I’ve got an extra person
beside me. Left side! Headstrong,
not yet two-year-old daughter
bathed in blue late morning
shadows scuffle, fount of refreshment,
cleansing—That’s a dirty mask,
dirty gauze—above I-70:
Sunrise askance. Stick to the sidewalk.
I wipe the ash from my thighs,
shake the dust from my t-
shirt, shed my skin and redress
my bandages as redness,
the redeye ridden to some final
destination. My destiny
arrives as a matter of fact, a murder
of crows, screwballs. Swerve
with me, wise-cracker. I’m lonely.
Tired of finishing my own sentences.
I wipe the water from the droopy
corner of my mouth. Company over,
my own inescapable company.
Cameron Morse is Senior Reviews editor at Harbor Review and the author of eight collections of poetry. His first collection, Fall Risk, won Glass Lyre Press’s 2018 Best Book Award. His latest is The Thing Is (Briar Creek Press, 2021). He holds an MFA from the University of Kansas City—Missouri and lives in Independence, Missouri, with his wife Lili and (soon, three) children. For more information, check out his Facebook page or website.
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