This is a private observation

The figure of an interesting mirror backed into the

black river

I won’t return to sleep


I’ve received your postcard

the blue, black postcard underground

The lake is still visible

it’s nice

and power lines are still parallel wires whether

or not it makes a sound


Here is an imagined window

Outside it is winter, there is a

harbor, there are boats whose sails crest the horizon

There, in the mirror, they’re dipping

into myth


Light emerged then settled over the broad river

It’s like watching light leech

into the wrong day, disbelieving

birds, wrong again.

Connor Fisher lives in Athens, Georgia. He has an MA in English Literature from the University of Denver, an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Colorado at Boulder, and is working towards a PhD in English and Creative Writing at the University of Georgia. His poetry and reviews have appeared or are forthcoming in The Volta, Rain Taxi, Dreginald, Word for / Word, Typo, the Colorado Review, Tammy, Cloud Rodeo, and Posit.