Poetry by Elena Lee
You have crocheted me a blanket,
a wool one with rainbow
tucked it around my feet.
I cross my arms and let it embrace
the caress you can’t give me
at this moment.
I thanked you for blowing red into my
blue hands, my purple toes.
“You’re ice cold,” you said. “Wrap yourself up
lest the wind blow through you, mute your hues into transparency.”
And for telling me ghosts don’t exist when
I keep them pickled in bitter brine to blow
cold across my neck. Maybe I should
pour out the jar. But you already washed the dishes for me.
Thanks to you, my fingers are uncalloused and
my pupils still reflect the stars.
I never knew of hard, sharp edges. And I still think
sub-zero is a myth.
Elena Lee is a junior at Lake Oswego High School in Lake Oswego, Oregon. She was a winner in both the Blue Mountain Arts Poetry Contest and the Just Poetry competition and also received a Silver Key and an Honorable Mention from the Scholastic Art and Writing awards. Additionally, she has published work in Rare Byrd Review. Most of the time, she finds inspiration in everyday occurrences and random bits of conversation. When she is not writing poetry, she enjoys reading, hiking, and spending time with friends.