A Catalog of Clay
Newport Coast, CA
2020, Senior, Poetry & Spoken Word
i. dēleō, dēlēre, dēlēvī, dēlētus // to destroy—
we mold our oceans with a rubbish recipe:
the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, sewage appetizers, and
force-fed crude oil for dinner.
with her blood, we douse ourselves in silks of
tuna swathed in saran wrap,
salmon served on plastic trays.
we sicken her bones with
a fever: an added 32.2 degrees F each decade,
suffocating from the poison of CO2:
our poison
ii. necō, necāre, necāvī, necātus // to kill—
clay is oil-based, polymer, plastic:
it leaves a coat of grease residue on your hands, one that
you try so hard to scrub away but the oil remains stubborn.
on the oceans’ hands, oil still lingers:
in the wrinkles of the seas, those worn-out creases.
the clay of the ocean has been choked by weeds
of pesticides, fertilizers, chemicals,
burned by fossil fuels
bearing bruises and scars so unrecognizable,
is it really our ocean anymore?
iii. neglegō, neglegere, neglēxī, neglēctus // to ignore—
can you hear their cries?
they open their mouths, they whisper us their
limping dreams, a cascade of poorly mended hearts
against the bruise blue of the sea:
but we don’t listen, we turn our backs.
look into the eyes of the endangered, the dying:
spheniscus demersus
lepidochelys kempii
eubalaena glacialis
hold the gaze; why do we look away?
iv. curō, curāre, curāvī, curātus // to heal—
hurry:
chase the fleeting canvas of our responsibility
before it flees too far
start from the
acropora cervicornis
haliotis cracherodii
phocoena sinus
and sketch outward
start small, let the ring blossom: staghorn coral, black abalone,
a Kemp’s ridley singing the language of the seas,
yearning for a home that isn’t burning into oblivion.
don’t look away anymore
v. spērō, spērāre, spērāvī, spērātus // to hope—
the clay of our oceans can be re-sculpted;
take the knife with the hands of humanity
and cut away the dried pieces
shave away the pollution, the leftover residue
scrap by scrap,
piece by piece
melt the clay into a new mold, the mold of
renewal and restoration, of possibility.
together, we’ll breathe our wistful wishes
into the gentle lapping of her healing waves, because
our ocean can be our ocean again:
just wait and see.
wait for the clay to harden
Works Cited
Aronson, R., et al. “Acropora Cervicornis.” The IUCN Red List of Threatened Species 2008, IUCN Red List, www.iucnredlist.org/species/133381/3716457.
Borunda, Alejandra. “Ocean Warming, Explained.” National Geographic, 14 Aug. 2019, www.nationalgeographic.com/environment/oceans/critical-issues-sea-temperature-rise/.
Cooke, J.G. “Eubalaena Glacialis.” The IUCN Red List of Threatened Species 2018. IUCN Red List, www.iucnredlist.org/species/41712/50380891.
“Endangered Ocean Animals.” Smithsonian Ocean: Find Your Blue, Smithsonian, ocean.si.edu/ocean-life/marine-mammals/endangered-ocean-animals.
Howard, Jenny. “Marine Pollution, Explained.” National Geographic, 2 Aug. 2019, www.nationalgeographic.com/environment/oceans/critical-issues-marine-pollution/.
“Kemp’s Ridley Sea Turtle.” National Geographic, www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/reptiles/k/kemps-ridley-sea-turtle/.
“Oil Spill Pollution.” Environmental Pollution Centers, www.environmentalpollutioncenters.org/oil-spill/.
Rigby, C.L., et al. “Sphyrna Mokarran.” The IUCN Red List of Threatened Species 2019. IUCN Red List, www.iucnredlist.org/species/39386/2920499.
Rojas-Bracho, L., and B.L. Taylor. “Phocoena Sinus.” The IUCN Red List of Threatened Species 2017. IUCN Red List, www.iucnredlist.org/species/17028/50370296.
Smith, G., et al. “Haliotis Cracherodii.” The IUCN Red List of Threatened Species 2003. IUCN Red List, www.iucnredlist.org/species/41880/10566196.
Reflection
When I was little, my craft days were made up of sculpting colorful clay, following the pictures in one of those clay catalogs. I remember that frustrating, oily residue was always left on my fingers, refusing to be washed off—why did something so pleasant leave such unpleasant aftermaths? Today, our oceans are facing something similar, but of colossal magnitude: people reap the perks, but refuse to wash off the consequences. Yet these consequences matter: our carbon footprints are feeding into the ocean’s fever, gradual over time, but gradual adds up. The six species mentioned in this poem are all on the IUCN Red List’s critically endangered category, the category that is nudging the edge of extinction. This poem’s structure also resembles a beach shoreline and its uneven waves: beaches are often where we get swept up in the ocean’s beauty: unfortunately, that beauty has faded into something near-unrecognizable. In my poem, I tried to address all those issues and outline the path to hope: despite the unfortunate start of destruction and ignorance, we can still reach healing. In the final stanza, “to hope,” I infused the idea of togetherness (we can’t really do this alone: our oceans span the entire surface of Earth, and this is something humanity needs to accomplish together), a hint at current solutions (renewable energy, working towards restoration) and possibility—the backbone of “hope” is the beauty of the unknown, and that means numerous innovations in the future. Clay can be remolded—let’s do that.