Lowther, Christine

English

Scholars Commons

The Goose 
Volume 18 Number 1 Article 20 
3-8-2020 
Dear Ocean 
Christine Lowther 
 Part of the Arts and Humanities Commons 
Follow this and additional works at / Suivez-nous ainsi que d’autres travaux et œuvres: 
https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose 
Recommended Citation / Citation recommandée 
Lowther, Christine. "Dear Ocean." The Goose, vol. 18 , no. 1 , article 20, 2020, 
https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol18/iss1/20. 
This article is brought to you for free and open access by Scholars Commons @ Laurier. It has been accepted for 
inclusion in The Goose by an authorized editor of Scholars Commons @ Laurier. For more information, please 
contact scholarscommons@wlu.ca. 
Cet article vous est accessible gratuitement et en libre accès grâce à Scholars Commons @ Laurier. Le texte a été 
approuvé pour faire partie intégrante de la revue The Goose par un rédacteur autorisé de Scholars Commons @ 
Laurier. Pour de plus amples informations, contactez scholarscommons@wlu.ca. 
Dear Ocean 
 
 
You used to mean a kayak, harbour seals, 
smooth surfacing porpoises, 
 
you used to mean beauty and risk. Now you mean home: 
a floating shack held in place by polypropylene lassos, 
 
styrofoam billets, barge-hull, cookstove-anchor, and cleats. 
I paddle your surface in an unpoetic craft, dented and scratched 
 
plastic. Search for gunpowder sea stars, Turkish towel, 
devil’s apron, Laminaria. In your intertidal zone 
 
you coax language from me even when I’m mute as a mussel. 
I am a line stretched taut; the words tug. 
 
In my frayed lifejacket, snorkel and mask 
I steal up to your cloud-sized spiral of herring, 
 
coast gilled, finned wisdom. Flashes and sparks 
dance luminescent in you on certain nights. 
 
My house ropes slacken between chop, ripple, still 
to a seal’s gentle breathing in the dark. 
 
In the morning the fish fly 
slapping the water and me awake. 
 
Oh! what does it mean to be awakened 
by a thousand leaping fish? 
 
 
 
 
 
1
Lowther: Dear Ocean
Published by / Publié par Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2020
CHRISTINE LOWTHER’s poetry books are New Power, My Nature, and Half-Blood Poems. Her 
memoir Born Out of This was shortlisted for a BC Book Prize. She won the inaugural Rainy Coast 
Arts Award for Significant Accomplishment from the Pacific Rim Arts Society. 
2
The Goose, Vol. 18, No. 1 [2020], Art. 20
https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol18/iss1/20


Dear Ocean

Wilfrid Laurier University

The Goose Volume 18 Number 1 Article 20 3-8-2020 Dear Ocean Christine Lowther  Part of the Arts and Humanities Commons Follow this and additional works at / Suivez-nous ainsi que d’autres travaux et œuvres: https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose Recommended Citation / Citation recommandée Lowther, Christine. "Dear Ocean." The Goose, vol. 18 , no. 1 , article 20, 2020, https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol18/iss1/20. This article is brought to you for free and open access by Scholars Commons @ Laurier. It has been accepted for inclusion in The Goose by an authorized editor of Scholars Commons @ Laurier. For more information, please contact scholarscommons@wlu.ca. Cet article vous est accessible gratuitement et en libre accès grâce à Scholars Commons @ Laurier. Le texte a été approuvé pour faire partie intégrante de la revue The Goose par un rédacteur autorisé de Scholars Commons @ Laurier. Pour de plus amples informations, contactez scholarscommons@wlu.ca. Dear Ocean   You used to mean a kayak, harbour seals, smooth surfacing porpoises,  you used to mean beauty and risk. Now you mean home: a floating shack held in place by polypropylene lassos,  styrofoam billets, barge-hull, cookstove-anchor, and cleats. I paddle your surface in an unpoetic craft, dented and scratched  plastic. Search for gunpowder sea stars, Turkish towel, devil’s apron, Laminaria. In your intertidal zone  you coax language from me even when I’m mute as a mussel. I am a line stretched taut; the words tug.  In my frayed lifejacket, snorkel and mask I steal up to your cloud-sized spiral of herring,  coast gilled, finned wisdom. Flashes and sparks dance luminescent in you on certain nights.  My house ropes slacken between chop, ripple, still to a seal’s gentle breathing in the dark.  In the morning the fish fly slapping the water and me awake.  Oh! what does it mean to be awakened by a thousand leaping fish?      1Lowther: Dear OceanPublished by / Publié par Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2020CHRISTINE LOWTHER’s poetry books are New Power, My Nature, and Half-Blood Poems. Her memoir Born Out of This was shortlisted for a BC Book Prize. She won the inaugural Rainy Coast Arts Award for Significant Accomplishment from the Pacific Rim Arts Society. 2The Goose, Vol. 18, No. 1 [2020], Art. 20https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol18/iss1/20

https://scholars.wlu.ca/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1596&amp;context=thegoose

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