Keeper, Waker

• Gloria Guo, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2015

One day, I see the ocean, spread open like a coconut cracked
upon a stone, milk dribbling out in rivulets
creeping in crevices, swallowing mountains raw
until they have worn away.

She stirs; the waves lap at the shore and swirl,
twisting into dancers that fling their white foam ribbons
and purl around the languid arches of the land.

Every wake they wander and stray
Leave salty crystals I can still taste.

She breathes softly and slides herself between the world and I,
rising above the golden lining of continents.
Sweeping the silver of the clouds,
her hands curl into fists— a desert is formed.
They unclench and another drop from the ocean spills on the broken ground.