Echo

In late July you find yourself
in someone else’s dream, or maybe a memory
that at some point belonged to you.

It’s vivid now, hearing their laughter mingle
with the lapping of lake water.
They’re young, not much younger than you
but you feel the distance stretch wider.
Sunlight dances on them in a way you used to know.

The air makes your head hurt. You can’t remember
what uninhibited happiness feels like. Only something
like voices bouncing off canyons.

People sink to the bottom of lakes
sheltered by green hills and endless summer.
People never resurface.

All there is left to do is search their smiles
for the parts of yourself you miss most
before they erode, victims of an unseen current
flowing gently beneath you.

It’s impossible to keep them tied to a moment
and watch them live forever beneath a mountain
called echo, hoping they won’t be carried away

by a silent tide
the way you were.

Talia Skaistis is a sophomore from New York City, and she is planning on majoring in English and Environmental Studies. She loves her cats, bluebonnets, and listening to music, specifically Phoebe Bridgers and Adrianne Lenker.