A Nod to Punctuation

poppy seedhead

 

She’ll pick him an asterisk

or a comma or two; full

stops, ideas tied off in

neat packages, have always

eluded his dialogue,

circumvented an outcome.

.

Her dreams have become dangling

participles, unfinished

pages with Schubert’s flavour,

unable to hold hyphen’s

place – waiting, always waiting,

a watched pot that never boils.

.

Phrases, nuances, shadings

of meaning get bogged down, dragged

through the spittle of run-on

sentences; she slams the door

on the argument, her shoes

leaving angry editing

marks on the stairs. Period.

 

The Road Not Taken

wateryroad.jpg

I wish this was

water under the bridge –

instead,

your choices are a constant drip,

a flood of tears,

a deluge

forcing me to back-track,

take a detour,

set up pylons

where a simple drain should suffice.

We’ve been down this one before.

Perhaps

next time,

we could try

the road not taken?