The Expiratory Pause (Poem)

Stay away from the gaps.

I consider these words then intentionally

Step into the in between.

A bird flies on the wing; a branch sways in the wind.

I hear the sharp notes of a violin, the warning whistle of the noon train.

Where are these things In the halt from inhale to exhale?

Snap your fingers, and they are gone.

I am not here. I am not there. I am not.