Melting The Mic Poem by Mary Talbot Fee

Soft, warm winds circle past tongue and lips,
Temperate tones swirl and emerge,
Gaining momentum as a howling storm,
Her tropical surging song melts the mic.

Tear and years fly uprooted through amplified blasts,
Humid, sultry breaths ride and slide free chords,
Crying out, knocking on boarded windows of defeat,
Her tropical surging song melts the mic.

Hard feelings, no longer buried,
Scatter, pelting new grounds,
No longer still, no longer dry, no longer cold,
Her tropical surging song melts the mic.

Mary Talbot Fee,3-21-09