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.
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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.