Tongue. Found balled up in an inside-out pant leg while pulling laundry out of the dryer. Slightly felted. No longer fits quite right. Manufacturer discontinued the original model and has no compatible replacement.
Wrist (right). Found pressed against a former lover’s lips. It would not apologize and refuses to come home. (Former lover claims not to have seen their lips in some years. Suspect.)
Fingertip callouses. Died of neglect. Potential revival spells in progress, but unable to confirm care and feeding requirements for undead callouses.
Knees. Found stuck to a hassock in a university chapel. Complications reclaiming bones due to ongoing investigation into potential relic status, despite overwhelming evidence of non-sainthood.
Heart. Found—just kidding.
Eardrum. Found stuck to an earbud, crusted with podcasts. Descaled and reattached. Occasional maintenance recommended.
Elbow (left). Peeled off an invisible smear of maple syrup on the dining table. Unable to find suitable grafts for replacement skin; permanent coating of syrup medically necessary to prevent infection.
Hip (left or right, undetermined). Found under a table at the end of a night out dancing. Affectionately belligerent. Declared enduring love for seven individuals of varying familiarity, passed out in the taxi on the way home.
Pineal gland. Found terrified amid philosophical controversy. Joyfully resumed duties of regulating circadian rhythms.
Toe. Found in someone else’s bed. Now exists as a running cautionary joke and treasured memory.
Jessica Coles (she/her) is a poet and editor from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada (Treaty 6 territory), where she lives with her family and a judgmental tuxedo cat named Miss Bennet. Many years ago, she got a B.A. in linguistics that she currently uses to write love poems. Her work has appeared in Prairie Fire, Moist Poetry Journal, and You are a Flower Growing off the Side of a Cliff: a chapbook about mental health and resiliency (League of Canadian Poets chapbook series). Her first chapbook, unless you’re willing to evaporate, is available through Prairie Vixen Press. She often tweets micropoems and creative encouragement as @milkcratejess.