← v20n2, Fall 2021
Poetry · Volume 20, Number 2

Echo

If ever I am mentioned, only after

your name. Postscript. Sad

phantom of a phantom girl. The way they tell it,

I am the shadow which hounds

your brightness, the tether

of shade at your heel. But

I too have a name, my own

story. A corporeal life and need

which precedes you. I was here

in the meadow before you. Before

you entered, I was here

at the center, crushed

flowers under my feet.