“Sea lions take beach days in wintertime” by Eliot Scott
Poetry Pause is the League of Canadian Poets’ daily poetry dispatch. Read “Sea lions take beach days in wintertime” by Eliot Scott, second place winner of the 2025 Jessamy Stursberg Poetry Prize for Canadian Youth, senior category.
Sea lions take beach days in wintertime
By Eliot Scott
My mom got a name like a too small pair of shoes. Oma named her after a princess. She wanted to play with GI Joes and mud. Left half her name stuck in the lime shag carpet of my grandparents’ basement on her way out of Edmonton. Became Marg. When I was born, I think she didn’t want me to be stuck with something that would never fit. Maybe we call our kids the names we wish we were given.
My name is me with short hair, happy in my cargo shorts and purple shirt and you coming to tell me my joy confuses you. That I don’t belong. “What are you? Are you a boy or a girl?”
“I’mma octopus!” I’d say laughing, but it hurt like alcohol wipes on a scraped knee. It’s being tuned in to a different radio station than everyone else, always close, but never on the right frequency. Would I have been normal if I’d been called Emma? Probably not.
My name is waking up in the night to the crashing of a waterfall outside my tent. Lonely noise opening up the darkness and silence of the backcountry. Bright coloured Lego bricks. Marine life. Sunshine yellow. Soft ukulele music. The feeling of sprinting to the cross-country finish line. It’s being thrilled with the sea lions lounging on the beach, in winter.
My name is me at 4 on the playground. Telling a woman I didn’t know “My name is Eliot. Some people think that’s a boy’s name, but I’m a girl.” I made an impression. When her baby was born, she called her Eliot. An invisible thread connecting me to this family. Ellie, they call her, is 13 now. I see her around.
My name was you. Yelling across the kitchen table, both of us strapped into our highchairs. “Eh-yit! Eh-yit!” And me hollering back to you. “Tah-ya! Tah-ya!” Now my name is me. Writing you letters and text messages. Trying to fit the same loud toddler love into words.
I use your new name. Learn Minecraft. Ask for an earbud even though I don’t like metal. Random emojis. Endless puns. Silly cat pictures translate to “I love u. I hope you’re ok?”
Copyright © Eliot Scott
Second place winner of the 2025 Jessamy Stursberg Poetry Prize for Canadian Youth, senior category.
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