top of page
the tide rises, the tide falls | an oceanic literary magazine
Gulf and Color
by
Kris Hiles
I've been to the gulf twice.
When I was older
you came along and in
the bonfire of your sanded skin
I saw the chasm in me
waving back, ripples
when I was a skinny little girl
at the shoreline
where the waves were
so clear I could see my toes
taking steps oblivious
to the black water
drowning the horizon line.
Kris Hiles is an autistic queer poet living in a blue house with her plants and vinyl records. She likes snow, the smell of archives, and vintage computers. You can find her on Twitter @KrisHiles.
bottom of page