This is in praise of the comma. The dance partner that leads you through a turn you didn’t know was coming but felt as a yes through your whole body. The electrical current that brought you to life and made you know things.
It’s the hand on the low back that steers you, that shifts the weight, that lifts your feet off the floor and makes your breath catch for a moment.
The comma is widest part of the circumference, where centrifugal force pulls the hardest and makes you close your eyes, hold on, tip your head back, ride the law of inescapable orbit and axis.
It’s the set up and the payoff that you didn’t realize you wanted more than anything, until you got it, bright, and lit from within, and caught, now, in your two cupped hands.