Three Poems by A.J. Huffman

Your Brain Came Out

to play with mine.  They frolicked

together for hours, building worlds

out of words and woefully incomplete ideas.

Discovering they were polar

opposites, they began to push and pull

each other like magnets.  Soon they were

standing at reflective ends of a united pool

of brilliance.  Looking down, they realized

it burned with shadows of both our names.

Electric Ruby

Semi-precious, amplified.  Current

conductivity, pushed beyond

the red.  Zone:  Over the Rainbow.  Static

interference falls like rain.  Accumulation

of negative ions stick like glue

to shoes that transform smokin’ legs

to just plain smoke.

I Wish I Had a Donut

to sing me to sleep tonight.  I have been

a good girl, making friends with celery

and carrots, really annoying vegetable sticks.

Sadly, I find them standard issue.  They bore me

with their mocking selflessness.  I would prefer the indulgent

sound of jelly dripping through over-sugared dough to tuck

me in, to lay itself beneath my head, a perfect pillow

to foster sweet dreams filled with visions of a dietless life,

a world where a crunchless bite doesn’t echo with regret.

A.J. Huffman has published nine solo chapbooks and one joint chapbook through various small presses. She also has two new full-length poetry collections forthcoming, Another Blood Jet (Eldritch Press) and A Few Bullets Short of Home (mgv2>publishing).  She is a Pushcart Prize nominee, and her poetry, fiction, haiku and photography have appeared in hundreds of 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