by Phoebe Nir | Fieldston School | New York, NY

The ocean has a tongue, and it can lick
A prehistoric boulder into sand.
How often must I ask if you are sick?

I wonder if an oyster knows the trick
Of how to coax a pearl out of its gland.
The ocean has a tongue, and it can lick.

My tongue is dry. It’s like a slab of brick.
I wish it could maneuver like a hand.
How often must I ask if you are sick?

When every pore of skin can house a tick,
The world must seem unfathomably grand.
The ocean has a tongue, and it can lick.

If everything that seems to sit and stick
Is loaded like a slingshot’s rubber band,
How often must I ask if you are sick?

Please wake me when the fog has grown too thick
And we will search for someplace you can stand.
The ocean has a tongue, and it can lick.
How often must I ask if you are sick?