…Berenika by Micheal Lee Johnson Do what I tell you to do your face is like flour dough your nose like a slant directionally unknown like an adverb- tossed into space. Your hat is like an angel wedding gown draped over vodka body like a Christ shield protecting you in innocence. It is here I kiss your lips as a total stranger; bring myself closely to your eyes; camp out on your narrow lips and wait for the morning before I slide like a sled deep snow, away. Continue reading Berenika

Tiny Sparrow Feet

Tiny Sparrow Feet by Michael Lee Johnson It’s calm. Too quiet. My clear plastic bowl serves as my bird feeder. I don’t hear the distant scratching, shuffling of tiny sparrow feet, the wing dances, fluttering, of a hungry morning’s lack of big band sounds. I walk tentatively to my patio window, spy the balcony with detective eyes. I witness three newly hatched toddler sparrows, curved nails, mounted deep, in their mother’s dead, decaying back. Their childish beaks bent over elongated, delicately, into golden chips, and dusted yellow corn. Continue reading Tiny Sparrow Feet