HARKNESS

1.

A meteor careens across its pocket
universe, a goldfish bowl

pocked & scarred. All action
as ricochet. A fish gets

forgetful. Between
thought

& expulsion,
some kind of light

leaks out.

2.

A fishbowl is no pinwheel,
an audience

of participants anticipating
nothing. Along

the borderline,
your neural network interprets

flattened affect as mission
critical. Friend

as indifferent foe. Over
your shoulder,

everyone’s swimming
in feedback.

There’s not enough oxygen
for your insertion

into slack.

3.

A fish obliviates. Drowns out
any reflection. We

could each guess the volume
of our own

enclosures. Sound our bodies
before they’re silent

as glass.

4.

After math, amber
refracts. A comments stream

teeming with unschooled
expression. Or

consider a different
curriculum : last night’s

caviar’s already
expired. Our comet arrives

late, detonates inside a paper-
weight.

Chris McCreary is the author of several books and chapbooks including the chapbook Maris McLamoureary’s Dictionnaire Infernal (Empty Set Press), co-authored with Mark Lamoureux. His new book of poems, awry, is forthcoming later in 2024 from White Stag. He lives in South Philadelphia and on IG at @chris___mccreary.