By Shelby Hieter
The cold rushing waves / pushing and pulling our heads above / chest deep in the Pacific / farther out then we should have been / for as long as we could stand the numb / nothing could keep us from running in.
Citizens of the sea / clouds in the sky / our bodies frozen / our hair crusty, flaking of salt /
dried out kelp people / we spoke for the sea, as the Lorax spoke for the trees.
Leaves may have turned bright red to fall / grey skies with maybe a crown of cerulean /
yet not matter / our skin: changing from pink to red, white to blue / running our fingers through sand, warming our toes soaked by sun / building castles with moats that reached to the tides.
We collected feathers and sand dollars / stalked and chased seagulls / waved hello to seals / kept death from a jellyfish / I’ve questioned the deep dark brine for as long as I can remember / afraid the unknown could sweep away my life and what was in it / the fires that burn on the sands, cannot be contained / our bloods are tied to love —
At night we build cabins and teepees of sticks, light them aflame in the park rangers pit / telling the stories we already knew / the first time she met ice cream in the back of the car / diving face first / cold vanilla covering her forehead / stubborn she-beasts, we did what we wanted / walking into the night along the railroad tracks, next to the ocean.
SHEL L. HIETER is originally from Portland Oregon. She is an emerging writer and artist, working on various literary projects, including illustrating her first chapbook. Her two-part sci-fi short story, The Rejection & Finding Home, was published in The Reverie vol. 20. She is currently living on the Pacific coast and is working on her first novel.