Woolly white commas scatter,
distributing pauses among
ragged lines of trees while
black and white and docile,
line up at dawn awaiting deployment.
Apostrophes fly and land at random among cabbages.
Fence post full-stops stamp down in regular intervals,
circumspective between wiry lengths of syntax.
Hills roll on unimpeded into the haze of distance.
No-one knows how to use punctuation anymore.
© 2018 Jessica Taggart Rose
Jess is a writer and editor whose first poem was printed in her local paper in rural Australia when she was seven. She’s still writing.