Omniscient

“The Bewitched Mill” (1913), Franz Marc, Oil on Canvas. Courtesy of the Art Institute of Chicago.
The river hides its openings
in the marsh.
In this, it forces
me to see.
I paddle up the channel.
The wind blows off my hood.
The tree ahead is leafless.
The bird sees
me before I knew I had
been seen.
of grass and mud and dirt
and that white flash
of feathers.
I am stuck in the eyes that leave
the branch and loom over me.
I paddle backwards and
jam myself against the shore.
And yet the river sends me
back to the stream,
and how slow had I been moving,
always knew
I would need help
turning around,
flew up and swept
me back, like I wasn’t
we have to learn to
first fly, this turn to the
wind, this knowing now after
felt to float
along the tide.

Katie Mihalek
Publab Fellow 2026
Katie Mihalek is a poet based between Massachusetts and Rhode Island. She holds an MS in medical sciences from Boston University and an MFA in creative writing from Emerson College, and is currently pursuing a PhD in English and creative writing at University of Rhode Island. She is the poetry editor for Fork Apple Press. She is the author of the chapbook Aurora Uteralis (Finishing Line Press, 2024), and her work can be found in Frontier, TIMBER, Sheila-Na-Gig, Barnstorm, and others.