Mom was a performer,
belted “Heart” lyrics,
harmonized with Ann,
played the air guitar with Nancy.
Her eyes were fire again,
after years of being told that no one listened
burned her down to the wick.
We always listened as the words grazed
against our ears like satin,
“Now wouldn’t you, Barracuda?”
She looked back at us
from the rear view mirror
and told us we could be whatever
we wanted.
It was a lesson worth learning.
Mom stopped
singing
when the tape stopped
playing.
My sister and I became
the music she wanted
to hear.
We carried the tune
on our backs when she couldn’t.
My sister chose to be Nancy,
I was Ann. We were together
barracudas.
Maddie Katarski is a junior at the Pittsburgh High School for the Creative and Performing Arts, where she is studying Literary Arts. She hopes to someday pursue a career in writing. She is the editor-in-chief for her school’s newspaper. She has been recognized as an Honorable Mention in City Theatre’s 2017 Young Playwright’s Contest. This will be her first publication.