from Claws this Pause

In a dream a bear cub came to me

to tell me I would die without glory, and I did

not cry, for somehow I knew this had always been

true.  I thanked him by offering my hand

to shake or eat, whichever

is more appropriate in dreams these days.

He refused both,

mumbled something about being

a germaphobic vegan, two things I know little about

so I said nothing as I watched him walk away.

I woke the next morning, still chained to the life

of a man I did not respect, a man who did not

even know the entirety of my name, and I decided

the bear was a messenger meant to bleed

me like a bullet.  I gave myself up

to the transfusion, walked out of the upside down

life I had been hiding under, and tried

once again to teach my eyes the difference

between the shapes of shadow and sun.

A.J. Huffman

Concentric Circles

scream like air

that isn’t there.  I

can see them, mocking

me from shallow shadows.

I long to play

inside their expansive embrace,

but I am collapsing

inside myself as if I were

a reflection of their falling.

Call me Ishmael

and hand me a harp.

I have every intention

of singing as I go down

with this invisible ship.

A.J. Huffman

I Am Crucifixion

abandoned idol, hanging in penance

for others’ sins.  Stripped to the waist, nailed

to splintering symbol of my own faith.

Wearing crown of thorns, I am blessed rose,

marking universal grave.  Sacrificed,

I am anonymous figure, assuming blame.  I am

mother, daughter, holy ghost

of flesh discarded.  I am expendable

angel, dying in plain sight.

A.J. Huffman

This is Affliction

I did not want the weight of place,

refused the floor.  I chose

to dangle like the ghost of a hybrid

orchid, picked by childish hands

that did not understand my vibrancy.

In a glass cage with no ceiling,

I dream and sing of absence.

I am cursed with the gift of shatter,

but am unable to use it for myself.

A.J. Huffman