Onesies – Cameron Morse

I machine wash cold the onesies

for my unborn son, wash and dry

inside out the dinosaur onesie,


the I’m one in a chameleon onesie,

the one with monsters, the one

with bears. I wash with like colors,


pour cups of hypoallergenic baby

detergent, folding feathers for flight,

outfits for the go-bag. Outside,


September morning air runs its gentlest

cycle around cul-de-sac,

machine-wash-cold as the catheter


that stabs contrast into my arm

during brain scans, a dye that inflames

red clouds upon my scalp and bee-


stings my side because I am allergic.

When my phone rings, it startles

a flight of doves. Their coos


rise into oak tree branches. On the other

end of the line, another brain

scan, another breakout.

Cameron Morse

Cameron Morse lives with his wife Lili and son Theodore in Blue Springs, Missouri. His poems have been published in over 100 different magazines. His first collection, Fall Risk, won Glass Lyre Press’s 2018 Best Book Award. Visit his Website, or Facebook page, for more information.

1 Comment

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October 16, 2018 at 9:55 PM

Achingly beautiful poem, Cameron.

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