Poem: “Elusive (the horizon)”



I trace the horizon
with my index

it picks up dust from
the window pane;

the line I’ve drawn
is now

than anything else
beyond the frame.

I go out, take in
the salted air;

the line is now
a half-dome:

I cannot touch it,
but in the wind.

I find a boat,
then I row.

And I row, and
row, and row;

the horizon looks
as far away.

My arms cramp
up. I haven’t
gone far
enough; I catch

my breath
and sleep
over the base.

Light takes
the horizon
from my
blinking eyes.

I cannot see
where the sky
ends and sea

I turn away, row
back; go look
for the line back,

behind the pane,

it is,

once again.

© Ana Beatriz Ribeiro

A Global Studies doctoral degree holder and former newspaper reporter, avid eater, pseudo-philosopher and poet, occasion-propelled singer, semi-professional socializer, movie addict, Brazilian-American nomad. In this space, she will share some of her experiences and (mis)adventures regarding various topics, with special attention to social issues.

Depot near temple in Hong Kong. (Photo: Helena Flam)
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