She talks to me from my bed
Taking four of the five pillows. She is
A street-clothed story teller, a poet,
An urban fairie, writing words with her tongue
For me to see
Gauging her tales
By the cascading of her ebony tresses
She becomes a performance artist
Underscored by the music
From the stereo on the shelf above the door.
And when she finishes her story
She punctuates the last sentence
By leaning back, placing her hands
Behind her head
And smiling.
***
Carol Aho is a full-time mom and student stretched wonderfully thin by her special needs daughter and polar-opposite son. Writing fiction since she was nine with a crayon and construction paper, she now negotiates the literary world (which is mostly in her head), with a laptop. Carol enjoys rock climbing, weight lifting, traveling the world, and wasting time.
