Pauses

Some pauses,
the accidental ones,
the half ums,
the ers,
appear out of nowhere,
like camouflaged speedbreakers on a highway.
They disrupt rhythm,
throwing speaker and listener
a few inches off the ground,
without caring
to break their fall.

But pauses,
when used right,
intentionally,
add gravitas.
Like
this
line.
Split into three.

Or this:
I
     am a body
                   full
                        of bones
    and blood.

That’s enjambment,
I hear you say.
To me, both are the same.
What is an enjambment,
if not a pause
in a 2D universe
on screen or on paper?
And maybe a vacuum
is just a 3-dimensional pause.

Pauses,
done right,
cover up for content,
like garnishing for a recipe,
like a hiss without a bite,
like a cape for a superhero
without a superpower,
like windows without walls,
like something
for nothing.

Pauses,
like commas, not periods,
the droplets on the edge of a waterfall.
Not knowing what comes after,
Or if anything does
after all.

Pause.
And stress.
Stress.
And pause.
For effect,
for applause.
To rest
jabbering jaws.

Pauses are pregnant.
With what?
Damn I forgot
my lines.
Hence…
the pause.

Image source: https://pixabay.com/en/punctuation-marks-fire-embers-3365011/

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