At her concert

I definitely am slouching at this table; crossed leg, elbow planted and topped with head-chin slump.

Good thing she expects stillness at her concert, because if I unfold, I wonder what shape I'll become.

I'll comfortably be still and watch and listen, to her twirls and her words and the joys they describe.

The beauty she sings to life is wondrous, but it makes me question if I'm alive.

While I sit, I'm never truly at rest. My heart is actually set at the edge of the seat.

It's terrifying how her singing soothes me, like I'm some kind of lowly beast.