I am writing for my friend Sally, who married a migrant worker and moved to California, who had a child and sews her own clothing.
Who sat with me in the rain, tucked into a hollowed-out cave. Who handed me homemade kombucha, then vodka, then a novel by Milan Kundera.
Sally, who in a fiction workshop, told me the only thing she could write was a description of a wall, and that she would write it over and over again. The wall: shattered and streaked with vines, shattered and overgrown with moss.
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, 7×7, Cloud Rodeo, and DELUGE. instagram.com/crfisher/.
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