Air Quality Index
Streetlights flounder in dense fog
red smear of warehouse
porchlights dimmed
orange the color of aggression
*
Inflamed brain on screen
a man hole
to the sewer below
steam lifting through snow
its wet iron disc
unhealthy for sensitive groups
*
Hollow out a hole for me
please I know
my anger’s out of character
Just tell me
what character I should be in
what otherwise than human skin
*
Feeding me Xanax from your hand
bag after the ER
………….Foiled by the urinal’s cap
………….the fumbled zipper
gridlocked teeth
I couldn’t find a cup to pee in
*
Chipping away at the ice
………….shelfed driveway
the crusty cover of cold
………….white bread
my loaf crumbling below
………….the shovel’s edge
You may date other men
_____
HALOS
GBM SURVIVORS TO THRIVERS
I said goodbye to
my sister this morning
collected her angel wings
*
California mandarins
sweet • seedless • easy peel
*
This morning tore
open her ocean………….spray.
*
Amtrack a quick
rustle in interstitial trees
three four cars
frosted passenger windows
December’s first snowfall
*
My father from the sunshine
state infant daughter
gums the translucent sac
tonguing pulpy globs
to the crumb catcher
*
This morning
promised snow fell
pressed palms
my sister slept
on a cloud
Omi greens the sleeve
of my hoodie
avocado finger grit
catches me mopping her tray
_____
BIO
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 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.
