Kristen Lee

Whaling

At the salt chuck,
the citylights are flames.
My candlewick spine
blackens, open skin
tarnishing like a child’s
wish. Once, this was
the moon’s reflection.
Once, this sea flowed,
undammed, into a river.
It’s like closing my eyes
for a bath left me oilier
than before, like the hooks
breaking derma mistake
flesh for blueprints.
Industry grows faster
than I can outline seascapes
and stretch across
something soft. In this age,
I am not even a mirage
of a mirage. My body
is parched, the fire
whispering that the ticking
on my back should have
been heard. But it’s hard
to catch my breath
when the skyline drains
the sea, when compasses
go mad with too much steel.
When my skin is being
melted from my bones
into fire fuel, spine
shortening into what was
once a trailing edge,
the light rolling off of it.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Kristen Lee is a high school writer from Long Island, New York. Her work has been recognized by NCTE and the Alliance for Young Artists & Writers, and has recently been published in Apprentice Writer. Last year, she competed in the Poetry Out Loud Regional Finals. Other than the literary arts, Kristen also indulges in catching baseball games and cuddling her dog, Penthesilea. Instagram: @itskris10le Website: https://kristenleewrites.carrd.co/#