The pier

The pier stands in the sea

anchored to the shore, leaning out to the horizon

the waves slamming against its legs.

The end of the pier is the furthest point you can walk away from the shore

but the sea looms much further out.

On a clear night the moon

throws your shadow out to sea.

The wind is cold

running along the pier over my scarf and stinging my face.

Gulls soar by or call to each other on the rails.

When I turn around

your back faces me

as you walk away along the pier to the shore.