Framing the Scene 

You’re always fluttering around.

I watch you, scared you might fall.

I want to lead you to the right song, to the right flowerbed.

Instead I spin in the air. My form lost among the pines. 

The light I had to lead us home, long since gone.

Should we follow the glow of the moon?

Sing to the wind?  Give it a few days to answer. 

Perhaps I should leave my heart in a wicker basket.

Cover myself in morning dew.

Abandon the very thought of you.
-Tosha Michelle 




He says I’m storm water
and chocolate cake.
The hot static of hair being

I say take me in your arms
and speak your proverbs
upon me.

I watch him undress, his hands
soild verbs. I turn away to keep
my sanity.

By the time he touches my shoulders
delirium and lightening have set in.

-Tosha Michelle