She was happier than ever,
that look had gone from her eyes,
the spill-angst frenzy.

She was quiet, we could relate,
she didn’t peck or jar.
I could breathe.

I rolled her a grape, she was grateful,
watched her ease around the garden.
I was so pleased for her.

No more church or paranoia,
no incessant nervous talk or hypochondria.

That’s when I knew there was a God.

Michelle Diaz lives in the strange town of Glastonbury. She has been writing poetry for a few years and has been published by Prole, Amaryllis and Strix. She ran a poetry group in Glastonbury for two years. She is a member of Wells Fountain Poets. She has a son with Tourette Syndrome and had a peculiar childhood. Both these things inspired her to write. Without poetry her soul would be incredibly hungry.