My sister would be a great spoken word poet
She flutters like a butterfly
From one flower of thought to the next
Sucking the juice like a hummingbird
She paces and raises her voice
Makes connections between Einstein and my mother
Finds them somewhere between the grey cells
Leaves the shower running
Is it right to fear the obvious?
I am frightened by her jumping frog brain
Lilypad to lilypad and her voice gets louder
Silence, then a laugh.
