Michelle Diaz has been writing poetry since the late 90s. She has been published by Prole, Strix, Amethyst Review, Amaryllis, the ‘Please Hear What I’m not Saying’ Mind anthology and was awarded 3rd prize in the Mere Literary Competition 2017. She has a son with Tourette Syndrome and had a very unusual upbringing—both of which have been huge inspirations for her writing. She lives in the colourful and strange town of Glastonbury. Without poetry her soul would be incredibly hungry.
These poems were also featured in Issue Two of Porridge, available for purchase here.
The Rebellion of Sleeping In
I want to scrape back the clouds
and bring morning to you on a tray,
allow you that extra hour.
I want to scrunch the world up, pocket-sized,
then feed it to you
in pieces you can swallow.
Instead, routine makes a Colonel of me,
I bark instruction:
Face and nails, tie straight, cornflakes,
blazer. Hurry up, it’s late!
Today I will let you sleep till ten,
swim in your unseen dreams,
to hell with school, alarms,
the regimented day.
Your face is the softest peach,
The way things have to be
will not consume the fruit of you,
dribble you down its chin without care,
without tasting your sweetness.
From the first drop of ash I could see you meant business,
straight as a Malboro, more dangerous.
The business was me –
For what I am about to receive may the Lord make me truly thankful.
An impressive stealth mission – your slick infiltration
of a family where prayer was as constant as tinnitus,
the twenty-four hour rosary,
a browning novena for every occasion.
Those things you did.
I couldn’t get your words out of my mouth,
the sugar-rush blasphemy, like freedom,
or the nearly escape of running.
The new taste
That made everything better and worse.
You spent a year opening every door inside me,
thigh-long sigh afternoons, sweet as the moon.
One day, while I was sketching the inverted sun,
I looked up, unholy smoke –
you were gone.