"defining commas"
by paolo macariola
sometimes i forget
to pause at the commas
and maybe take a deep breath
everytime i read that old letter of yours,
the same way i stop
for a fleeting moment
to catch a glimpse of you
before our lips challenge embers.
strange, how a mark
made with the faintest sleight of hand
could resemble the ocean's silent longing
for the sun,
as any body of water
such as the raindrop
awaits that certain ray of light
to forge a rainbow,
as any star
endures the day
to breathe in
the first whisper of a night.
and thus i learned:
a comma is a gate
of pauses that slowly opens
to reveal its true intent,
it is the gap which fills the absence
within another absence.
an assumption of something
to come. a prolonged adlib
that delays the climax
of a tragic ending
and a definite farewell
of conclusive defeat.
then it came to me
that maybe this emptiness
is your heart's true intent.
and it ends,
