2012 National Finalist


The ripple is the water’s echo, an open mouth,
a gem in the void, an outstretched ivory palm,
the ripple I cannot touch.

The drop is the water’s child, a pomegranate seed,
a stitch in the fabric, one lonesome tear,
the drop I cannot taste.

The bank is the water’s edge, a beginning,
an earthy embrace, a colored nest against sunset,
the bank I cannot trust.

The bank I cannot reach.
The mouth I cannot drink from.

My feet hang near the water, and the waters
Hang down to the sea.


Cathy Guo, age 15
Madison Connecticut

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