Tuesday, May 22, 2012

A.J. Huffman is a poet and freelance writer in Daytona Beach, Florida.  She has previously published four collections of poetry: The Difference Between Shadows and Stars, Carrying Yesterday, Cognitive Distortion, and . . . And Other Such Nonsense.  She has also published her work in national and international literary journals such as Avon Literary Intelligencer, Writer's Gazette, and The Penwood Review.  Find more about A.J. Huffman, including additional information and links to her work at http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000191382454 and https://twitter.com/#!/poetess222.

Suddenly Vanished

I wish I could package your breath.
And carry it with me.
Like a balloon.
My own private pillow.
Of life.
But solid.
As a memory.
Drifting above me.
I would only have to pull the string.
And you would fall.
And if I forgot
to need you?
No big deal.
I could just release you.
Let you waft away.
Or I could damn you.
With a single prick.
From my nails.

Watch the Lamb

Passion is weak.
In this darkness
I have crawled to.
On your knees.
I want you
to know
the feeling.
Of the shadow’s fading.
So hopeless.
So controlled.
By a movement.
Intended to crack.
The world.
On the sun’s back.

The Patience of a Tortured Saint

You say my skin is like porcelain.
You know I will crack
when you drop me.
That’s why my edges are so flat.
between your fingers.
I am embedded
in the blood
of your air.
And what a yawn.
To have become
a cliche
so young.
I know I must fail.
I know I must fall.
And complete your charge.
I just think
it’s more fun
to dangle.
The end of your chain
into the dark.

Dissolving into Yesterday

Floating leaves die.
Like fire.
Drink their breath.
Let it tangle with your own.
Such music begins
at dawn.
With moments set aside.
For angels.
Or, at least, their blood.
It drips like rain.
Filling oceans of silence.
Too perfect for waves.
They break the line of sight.
And follow sense
right down the drain.

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...