The Clouds
Cameron Morse


Theo asks me to lie down 
with him and watch the clouds. 
Late afternoon, Lili 
in the kitchen, Omi brings me 
 
a Japanese beetle
just stirring its barbed 
lethargic legs. How small am I,
how self-important? 
 
Lili beats egg with hemp 
seeds for the crust, making 
pizza possible, making it 
possible for me to eat pizza 
 
on my diet, for me to rock back
on the rough deck boards 
beside my son. Clouds spin out 
waving white tentacles.
 
I gather the iridescent carapace 
in a leaf, set sail 
over the deck rail before Lili 
returns with a tissue.