I Blew the Candle Out
because I did not want you
to find me. I was
more
comfortable with the cold
cave I had carved for myself
inside the darkness.
The comforting
sound of your footsteps echoing,
already so familiar with my space
was terrifying, a trespass
I had never imagined.
I was
desperate to erase my footprints,
shining like breadcrumbs set on fire.
You gathered them too eagerly,
your fingers seemingly immune to the burn.
I Wanted Wings
when I laid on the beach
just beyond the house that was still
too definitively yours.
I sank
my toes into the damp sand,
gave myself over to the sinking
feeling of being pulled under.
The cloudless sky offered no reprieve
for my burning. I had
no doubt
I would be ashes soon,
and I imagined the kiss of evening’s
breeze lifting me—my charred darkness
blending seamlessly into a starless sky.
Higher and higher I would rise,
an arid wave, grateful
for a moment of effortless breathing
before the inevitable crash.
In the Fading Blue of
Everything
Your shadow is too big. I cannot find
the exit. Door after door,
I knock. My head against the frames
that cannot fill. This space
is haunted by a hazel-eyed smile.
Shiny as Hell. Turned off.
Or maybe against. My view
stands: Distorted. I am
fumbling for nobs. Though any
handhold will do. In a sea of lost,
I am queen. Of the damned?
Or the damnless? Silver
salt holds the key to my crown.
But inside out is still inside. And I miss
the light. And the sight of the waves.
And even your back.
Your shadow is too big. I cannot find
the exit. Door after door,
I knock. My head against the frames
that cannot fill. This space
is haunted by a hazel-eyed smile.
Shiny as Hell. Turned off.
Or maybe against. My view
stands: Distorted. I am
fumbling for nobs. Though any
handhold will do. In a sea of lost,
I am queen. Of the damned?
Or the damnless? Silver
salt holds the key to my crown.
But inside out is still inside. And I miss
the light. And the sight of the waves.
And even your back.
A.J. Huffman has published twelve solo chapbooks and one joint
chapbook through various small presses. Her new poetry collections, Another
Blood Jet (Eldritch Press), A Few Bullets Short of Home (mgv2>publishing),
Butchery of the Innocent (Scars Publications), Degeneration (Pink Girl Ink) and A Bizarre Burning of Bees (Transcendent Zero Press) are now
available from their respective publishers and amazon.com. She is a
four-time Pushcart Prize nominee, a two-time Best of Net nominee, and has
published over 2400 poems in various national and international journals,
including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, Bone Orchard, EgoPHobia, and Kritya.
She is also the founding editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press.
www.kindofahurricanepress.com.
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