Self-Portrait at the Property Line

by James Champion

Edited by Ruquayya Sajjida

The eye dissociates to a blur.

Dyed blue,

like muscles shot with sedative,

the clouds ache and perform

their slow acrobatics. Here, I wear

the air like a blouse.

Bordering the field,

the treeline stands still.

as a stopped cardiograph. And the cut

cornstalks, the blood

red barn, rotted fence…

Full selves, all —

nothing reflects here.

The acreage is flat as a laketop,

rust-gold, bored

of itself. Of what fails to occur

over and over again

in the reeds: tentative or panicked

footfall. This, this

stunted, lack of events, this

utter stagnancy in the guttered

rainwater — a small sky,

which takes me

and keeps me.

James Champion (he/him/his) is from Whitehall, Michigan. He graduated from Central Michigan University with an MA in Creative Writing in 2019. He currently works as a cashier at a home improvement store. He likes skiing, walking, travelling. In other words, he is frightened of stillness. However, he is also enthralled by it. This balance might well be an accurate summation of his writing.