Thoughts from a Thinking Girl

I am the comma, the tiniest of endings

between the known and something more.

I ask you to pause, imagine saving you

from the chaos of rushing with pride,

piety, into confusion. I invite you

to breathe, knowing you are about to

float away, toward the independent clause

phrased in another’s hand.

A momentary connector, vapor vanishing,

whisked aside. I leave no trace. Already

you are on to the next, hurtling toward your full

stop. Moment passed, I remain, head bowed,

hanging between two wisps of time, here

on this page, once held in your hands, in your

gaze, waiting for you to read me. Again.