Posted on: January 21, 2010
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By Micaela Gardner


I was just a little dot
Sat lonesome on a page.
I did my job; ended a sentence
Earned minimum wage.
But when I saw you across the line
I knew I’d finally be whole when
We two dots came together:
We made ourselves a colon.

We had our baby daughter:
A beautiful little dash.
Straight as an arrow yet
On occasion a bit rash.
Sometimes–not always–she was abrupt
And would interrupt and scoff
At her absent-minded brother, Ellipses
Who’d often trail off…

One thing I’ve learned about good parentheses
That endears, organizes, and amazes
Is how carefully they tuck them in at night
(Their little fragments and phrases).

Love is a misplaced comma
It trips, you, up, like this
And causes the eternal pauses
Before an unsure kiss.
There are some, like clauses, who pride themselves
Upon their independence;
They share a semi-colon
But finish each other’s sentence.

And if one half falls apart
There is infinitely less grief–
The clause is more or less the same
She’s just a bit more brief.


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