Orchid Garden Residence Community
Cameron Morse
Sunrise crests the sixth-story balconies.
Bricks ridged to guide the blind run down the middle of the sidewalk
into a pole. Miscellaneous mandarin orange peels, sunflower shells,
cigarette butts scatter underfoot. Theo totters
around the compound, picking them up for the trash cans,
hands ruddy in the February wind.
Like my grandmother in Golden Acres who culled curbside garbage
on neighborhood walks, who collected bags of walnuts
in the basement, an elderly woman stirs about in the shadows,
sorting garbage. When Theo approaches her dirty bucket,
she shoos his hands away. Here by invitation,
by the grace of an old friend, we pose,
globetrotters pretending to be Beijingers. The commissary boss
asks my nationality. We buy mulberries and quail eggs,
make believe. When afternoon sunlight levels with the second story
window casements, grandmothers unpin clothes hung
between lamppost and tree trunk. Hedgerows harbor clumps
of snow like fugitives from the sun.
We visit the Summer Palace. Buy the obligatory map.
It says you’re at the East Palace Gate, the Hall of Benevolence
and Longevity. It says Silver-Knuckled Wind, Theo
Hates the Harness with which you leash him.
Everyone admires his complexion. Smiles at the tantrums.
He darts about the Spacious Pavilion while Lili peruses
the giftshops. Stopping just short of the Seventeen-Arch Bridge,
we call it quits. Leave the wind
to wisp in the yellow shoots of lakeside willows.
Leave the magpies to cackle in their cypresses. Leave in favor
of an evening meal with friends, in favor of early bed.
Jetlagged and backpacked, we drag ourselves back
to Orchid Garden Residence Community below a liver-spotted gibbous,
the crackle of oil in the wok of an upstairs apartment.
Cameron Morse was diagnosed with a glioblastoma in 2014. With a 14.6 month life expectancy, he entered the Creative Writing Program at the University of Missouri--Kansas City and, in 2018, graduated with an M.F.A. His poems have been published in numerous magazines, including New Letters, Bridge Eight, Portland Review and South Dakota Review. His first poetry collection, Fall Risk, won Glass Lyre Press's 2018 Best Book Award. His three subsequent collections are Father Me Again (Spartan Press, 2018), Coming Home with Cancer (Blue Lyra Press, 2019), and Terminal Destination (Spartan Press, 2019). He lives with his pregnant wife Lili and son Theodore in Blue Springs, Missouri, where he manages Inklings' FOURTH FRIDAYS READING SERIES with Eve Brackenbury and serves as poetry editor for Harbor Review. For more information, check out his Facebook page or website.