May 18, 2011

Cameron Witbeck


Is there a word in Cantonese
for a necklace made of teeth?
How do you divide the days
to revisit the reliquaries of a son?
Everyday, someone dies and leaves a hole in a home
where in the doorways he measured himself against time.
Is there shame in searching the dead for something to remember?
A woman dips in gold her father's little finger
and a sister digs a bullet out of drywall.
The repositories of grief, our pockets strain with memory.
We are each trying to find a way to weld ourselves to a ghost
afraid that if our hands are empty, we will be alone.


Cameron Witbeck is from Michigan. He plays rugby for the Moosemen RFC and works as an associate poetry editor for Passages North. He is pursuing an MFA at Northern Michigan University and his work has appeared in Cream City Review, Panache, Strongverse and others.

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