Perfuse me
brain scanner
Push your fluids
through my
blood vessels
my tissues
Let whatever in me
that is at issue
be scanned
interior scar
star-birth tumor
*
Self storage
What units can
contain my
self
“that place we are finally safe in”
calls Robert Creeley
poetry
*
Because I forget to set
my alarm for
12:30AM exactly 12 hours
before my perfusion
my thorough counterinsurgency
espionage by means
of rainbow-colored crayons
melted into my vat
of blood I double down
and dose again
*
Go easy on Daddy ask because
Daddy’s on drugs
*
Also along 40 HWY
Church of the Corners
shopfront chapel
in which I poke myself
in the eye
No that can’t
be right it’s Four
Corners as in “the corners
of the earth” which
is round
Cameron Morse lives with his wife Lili and two children in Independence, Missouri. His poems have been published in numerous magazines, including New Letters, Bridge Eight, Portland Review and South Dakota Review. His first collection, 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 serves as Senior Reviews editor at Harbor Review and Poetry editor at Harbor Editions. For more information, check out his Facebook page or website.
Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash
