And: A Poem.

“And.”

It is so hopeful she said

With a mouth full of honey

And

Dripping from her pen

And fills the space between

You and me

He and she

And is the note of the in-between

And hangs off a cliff

And promises more

And I hang from its tail

And wait for the punch

And hear in its single syllable beat

The rhythm of the words I’ve yet to reach

An ellipses articulated,

A colon shape shifting into speech

And rises

Or drops and falls

Because and is the space between

Up and down

High and low

Here and not

And dichotomies and parallels

Of the dividing and divided

And the perennially undecided

And it is within these three round shapes I curl

And wait

And hide from the falling of rotten figs

And the end of the sentence

And she dropped the word ‘and’ like a honey-covered bomb

But still ended her novel in a full stop

For every sentence has to stop

For even Ulysses had to stop –

My mind languishes in the inbetween

My thoughts an endless stream or scream

And is a saftey blanket in a serpent’s nest

And is the space between the plays in chess

And after the start and before the end

The world of the girl who longs to pretend

Hangs in the hand of this word ‘and’

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