Borderline

Salt in the cold wind,

boots planted deep in sand,

waves crawl, inch by inch,

but never reach my skin.

The tide flicks and fizzles,

delayed breath of the sea,

stretching fingers just short,

a space I never cross.

A horizon folded tight

between water and sky—

endless, unreachable,

an edge that holds me out,

never pulled in,

a silent border.

I stand where ocean ends,

watching a vast quiet

pull itself back,

nothing taken,

nothing given,

just waiting.