Hanging between, I exude
brevity and omission. I
contract, float in air,
halo possession, illuminate
obscurity: I am syllabic
indicator, glottal
stoppage, the sound
concealed beneath
floorboards. Dividing,
I never conquer.
Watch me turn away.

I am that pause, hesitation
and delimiter, the curled
caterpillar at leaf's edge.
Caress me, I'll divide your
line, offer order, reduce
confusion. Or, misplaced,
will knot your tongue
to the base of a compressed
lump of syllables humping
across mistaken intent.
I dream dot and dash,
consort with numbers,
coordinate and conjoin,
splice and descend.
Remove me at your own peril.

I shout. I declare. I warn
and emphasize in muted glory.
A full stop point with vertical
arm, born in joy, signifying
admiration or perhaps a shift
in tone, I brace for meaning.
This is my hope: to be
heard, though silent.  
To augment a voice, to blend
in harmony, one note otherwise
unnoticed, alone, reaching
back to gather and trundle
forward all that precedes  
to that ecstatic, thunderous
halt. I live to end!