An excerpt from

Laws & Locks
by Chad Campbell


The can command a room. The bevel-fisted
mayor of Sackville, the Renison Dean, sire
of four children. The wake up at six and read
the paper until his ears turned red and shook.
The recorder of the demise of his Canada,
the staunch, the solid, deliverer of grace at
dinner, the turkey carving, owlish eye-browed
thick-knuckled brooder, diabetic candy-stasher,
home-video Spanish-breast ogler, after dinner
own chest napper, model railway builder,
false hip bearer. The devouree of cancer from
anus to eyeball. The caved-chest weeper,
holder of hands, composer of own elegy,
which I read, in part, shaking at the pulpit.