(…)
(. . .)
three dots
and the space that surounds them
deceptively hollow, sit crouched
close to the line
waiting
for me to fill in the blanks
three dots
were made
for waiting and
wrong ideas, they can
wait here forever,
suspending the sentence
until the cows come home
and the herd is at pasture
filling their heavy sides with lush green grass
as i wait alone
three dots
hold everything you did not say
between them, they trail off into the night
their morse code tapping
on my skull, a water torture
of punctuation
three dots
stepping stones to a
place i cannot travel