Two Poems by Connor Harrison

Montreal #5

After the snow
in January

the night is rarely
dark, everything remains

lit, like a pantry,
or a bathroom

in moonlight. At three
a.m., while the time

flashes on
the microwave,

I can still see
the garden in white,

where a bird,
looking perhaps

for some darker
place to sleep, has left

behind a sketch
of its unrest

Paysage; My Accent Arrives

Here, the broad freshwater
North American lakes,
brimming with the blue sky.
Here, the regular murmuration
of Canadian French, come to
ruffle the trees and fleece
the smooth water. And here
it comes now, crunching down
the public footpath: my white and
patchy van. Listen to it drag the breeze
through its engine; watch as it smashes
head-first through the lake.

Connor Harrison's writing has appeared in the LA Review of Books, Poetry Wales, The Moth, and Hinterland, among others.