Highland Lake

Heavy eyes fall shut
In the room overlooking the lake
Sun-steeped sickness
The sweet, hot sunlight shooting through wide windows
Burning up the daybed

The sound of laughter and calming chatter
Lulling me into a painless sleep
With the throbbing in my head and the thin covers
Just an hour away from growing a little too warm

I’ll wake in a feverish heat
Yet the pain in my head will vanish
Dreaming to rinse my burning skin
Deep in the brown-black water

In the midst of it all
I remember Andy years ago, removing my splinter
Soothing my lightheaded uneasiness
It’s like jumping into freezing-cold water, you just gotta embrace the pain
Softly wiping a tear away with the back of his hand

My hair dried up afterward
Well-loved by sunshine and freshwater solace
Sticky with summer and droplets of the lake
The relief the water brought me after padding across the fiery dock
Gently stinging my feet as I ran toward the edge

Everything was tender.
The melting glue on the spine of The Secret History
A touch of sunburn just under my squinting eyes
The dull pain of my crucifix pendant
Heating slowly on my chest

Feeling myself evaporate
As the sun sucks up any disease I’ve got
Lurking under my pale skin,
And I am clean.


Allison Nadeau (she/her) is a poet from Bristol, CT and a recent graduate of Central Connecticut State University with a BFA in Theatre Performance. She is working as an assistant stage manager in Gloucester, MA over the summer. Allie is thrilled to have her debut publication in this volume of BarBar! You can see what she’s up to on Instagram @allisonnadeau_

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