Carrie Anne Potter

Peripheral Instinct

Like bone,

I thought as we drifted

out to the lone point & I saw

matchstick birch limbs

lying endsoaked                                                                                                                                                                        along rock walls.

Through late August haze

they appeared velvet branches

shed by some stag, or

the quills of a pale-

winged tern, left


when she mounted

on balmy current: all of these

relics of abandonment,

just as the two of us                                                                                                                                                                          paddled out

cast together in this

experiment in buoyancy,

but susceptible to parting

like the horizon cleaves

its lake & sky.


Carrie Anne Potter is a senior at SUNY Geneseo, where she majors in English (literature) and French and minors in linguistics. She is from Potsdam, NY, and consequently considers herself at least half Canadian. When she’s not furiously debating the geographical boundaries of “upstate” and “downstate,” Carrie can be found writing poetry, taking herself on miniature road trips, or rewatching “Portlandia” for the hundredth time.