"The Hierarchy of Gilead"

I live in a box,
Nestled between blue and green at the far corner
Fingers pluck me out when they want me
Big, fat appendages grab and squeeze.
I am just a stick of wax smothered by a paper robe,
but so are the rest of them
Rows and rows of color sticks
Touching but not blending.
Red, it should be the color of passion or love
not duty and sacrificial blood
I just want to be melted and become a puddle
of liquid wax.

By Maria Stayer
York Suburban Senior High School
This poem is written in response to the novel The Handmaid's Tale.