liminal

I lie on my stomach

and stare at the dirt,

rolling over is the sky.

I am between two surfaces

I barely penetrate,

liminal in a wide place.

there is no perigee, the only hope

is for decay, but is there

comfort in continuance?

somewhere between here

and the infinite horizon I will shape

a container for the stones

left large enough to hold.

ignored by a sea who

became a ghost too soon

.