Echo in a Bottle, by JS O’Keefe

 
On a Carolina beach I slogged into the labyrinth of history, or at least a lost man’s story.

old glass in the gray sand
gleamed a round bottle’s narrow neck
probably made in Europe long time back
a note was inside the message faded
someone’s last hope in a frigid flask
a longing goodbye letter sent
the ocean was foe and his only friend

I was curious what had been penned on the yellowed papyrus but there was little chance finding out; the ink had deteriorated to a sigh by the years and relentless sun.

days later odd thoughts crop up
reverie’s trans blinds and ideas roam
marooned on an island was the man
struggling dawn to dusk and then
died alone far from his country
far from his home

Reduced to a perpetual hermit, what was going on in his mind? Does belief separate from the body when no one else is around? If yes, did the two have bitter quarrels?

narrow’s the land the water is wide
as the Moon travels so does the tide
the bottle floats away the man remains
marooned on the island all his days

Weeks later I still can’t make out the words but have come to recall, I wrote the message.


A short version of this poem was published in Friday Flash Fiction, August 4, 2025.