I am an amputated arm – trying to accept my body’s state of mind


after four hours of spasms

I went to work wearing your watch

thinking that it would hold me

closer to my body

no one noticed the ticking

I raised the mug to my mouth

but still didn’t have one

I pretended that I had lungs to

breathe in and breathe out to be

in the moment not worried

about my physical state

it didn’t last


I am an amputated arm – a vocal discord


8pm and I can’t read this

can’t read anything about

ships can’t listen to song

lyrics I am awake and I am asleep

the doctor says it doesn’t sound

like a nightmare a house by the sea

awake aware at the edges

I can see you will never hear

my voice again


I am amputated by centrifugal force


I can’t tell if these faces

are repulsive or attractive

dark rain runs down

the backlit features

my body has disappeared

radiated away in black ink

on a map time spinning—

I don’t recognize these faces

what is the color of light when you

time travel? birds fall from the sky

feet pad through the forest this is static

running a camera focused on the back

the wrong date in newspaper print

I don’t know when I am anymore

something remains behind that cannot be—




Jayme Russell is the author of two chapbooks: PINKification (Dancing Girl Press, 2017) and PINKpoems (Adjunct Press, 2017). Her writing can also be found in Black Warrior ReviewDiagramFairy Tale Review, and elsewhere. She received her M.A. in Poetry from Ohio University and her MFA in Poetry from The University of Notre Dame.