I know the edge
it is not a cliff
or line in the sand

it is a place
in the heart
that is not
available

not for hire
or rent
it cannot be
borrowed
and never
begged for

I know the edge
have learned to
respect its
boundary

and yet
it cannot be
seen or known

it is an absence
the part of the lip
that does not
enter into
a kiss

the part of
a finger that
escapes the
held hand

It is not
an element of anger
or missing desire

It is the truth
and yet not
its measure

nor is it conscious
(and thus it cannot be
manufactured)

The edge
is that part of
your lover
you cannot have

but it must be loved
along with all
that is openly
available
and readily
apparent

because it belongs
to them alone

and even they
do not know
they have it