Poetry by Elena Lee
What seasoning steals through silence, that I
must forever gulp down in draughts?
Hardly sweet, hard to swallow.
And round as a marble rolling, no,
choking on its own path
in nauseous somersaults
across an uneven floor I didn’t
even know was sloped ‘til now.
How the clattering is aggressive, nerves
typing lines on a keyboard
that’ll never print.
I’ve never learned to write novels. Never could play
concertos well, never learned to trill and vibrate
and sway like I’m following the sun. Never
learned to declaim epics. I whistle and
the wind whips away the tune, spirits
away the ghost to entertain
its own shadow. And me, I stand
with pursed lips and outstretched fingers
but that kind of wish is for children
anyway. My nets only
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.