[On ‘The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls’ by H.W. Longfellow]
The warm tide rises,
Rinsing the sands with foam, like soap
Promising to wash out the hope-
Ore glinting in the rocks.
The foam capsizes,
And squirming feet learn: the cold sea
Has sent more of its gnarled debris
To hunt skin without socks.
The wind surprises
Itself, lends fresh love to the toes
Worming their way through seashell-foes,
And cold flint stumbling blocks.
Hibah Shabkhez is a writer of the half-yo literary tradition, an erratic language-learning enthusiast, and a happily eccentric blogger from Lahore, Pakistan. Her work has previously appeared in Bandit Fiction, Shot Glass Journal, Across The Margin, Panoplyzine, Feral, Literati Magazine, and a number of other literary magazines. Studying life, languages and literature from a comparative perspective across linguistic and cultural boundaries holds a particular fascination for her. Linktree: httpsss://linktr.ee/HibahShabkhez
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