Listen to poem:
The Pregnant Pause
The little linger, the wee wee wait-a-while,
says it all wordlessly, unwieldy:
"The momentary pause is pregnant!"
with distinct possibilities of a bow-out clause.
I can see and smell the stench of doubt
as you look away,
breaking our eye-to-eye contact.
That tiny delay is your way of saying it,
without saying it in words.
You, the soothsayer-in-silence bleats:
"The momentary pause is pregnant!"
Listen!
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