I heard your voice for the first time
after you died your voice sounded
clear as I knelt in the snow you died
and I knelt on an extra-large ski parka
in the snow it was an unclaimed parka
so I knelt on maybe our nephew Jeffery’s
who we lost eight years ago and I wielded
a trowel to excavate the banks to find the lost
car keys in the snowbanks already gone
lost eight years I cry because now my sister
is gone too and I’ve been searching eight
hours gone are the keys my fingers frozen
and the dark grows and the snow comes
harder the dark and my sister gone
my head drums as the tears splash
drum harder so I beg Mary to come
help me find the lost
keys and Mary’s voice sounded not gone
Mary your voice in my head said don’t stop
don’t give up Ellen Smellin’ Watermelon don’t
give up just a little bit at a time you will find
the keys they are there all the time I am
here are my keys in the snow five minutes
after I asked Mary my keys are here
in the snow I am with Mary the first
time it was the first time after we lost
you I heard your voice.
Snow Angel

Ellen Austin-Li’s 2025 debut collection, Incidental Pollen, is the runner-up to Madville Publishing’s Arthur Smith Poetry Prize. Finishing Line Press published her chapbooks Firefly and Lockdown: Scenes From Early in the Pandemic. Ellen is a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net-nominated poet whose work appears in many places, including SWIMM, Salamander, The Maine Review, Lily Poetry Review, and One Art. Sundress Academy for the Arts (SAFTA) has supported her work. Ellen holds an MFA in Poetry from the Solstice program. She curates the reading series Poetry at Artifact at Sitwell’s in Cincinnati, where she lives. Find her here: https://ellenaustinli.me/