Inklings 2025

Past Lives Kayra Serpenguzel ’25 Linked arms, braced for the rush and clamor of our public middle school, Matching magnetic heart necklaces, glitter turtle rings, Always asked where the other one is, One day, I didn’t know anymore… Last summer a stranger taught me how to Salsa in a dingy University of Miami dorm room, Her pin straight black hair always neatly falling into place After each box step, Now you go to GW, And I hope you’re dancing in dorm rooms there too You used to correct me every day, In elementary school geometry, Freckles perfectly speckled on your full cheeks, I hear you’re motorcycle racing for fun these days, Instead of correcting the girls in your calculus class I met you once, in person, At a quarantine book club, your fairy pink mask covered the majority of your face, But your thick dirty blonde hair waved emphatically. You go to school right down the block, Penny loafers trodding down cracked sidewalks I walked past you once but couldn’t remember where I last saw that blonde wave I used to relish the sound, every time I made you laugh But the distance between us widened First by time, then geographical distance: 1,059.1 miles stretched, Until you were nothing but a frequent face in my photo library, I wonder how you are But won’t ask 9