You Killed My Speaker
Without hesitation, your mind
brought immediate demise.
Fanatically final. Though, in
your defense, she is often
bloodied and bare
-ly breathing. Buried.
Under some viscous liquid.
Battling, cavorting, even wooing
some darker insanity. Inside
(and outside) the frame
of lines such as these.
Yet somehow your betrayal
is worse than hers. So dismissive
in its dissidence. Maybe you were
trying to concede her silence.
(Or echo mine?) The differentiation
is uncertain. And certainly uncanny
in its noble pursuit of conclusivity.
If only my eyes wore such shades
of black and white. Alas, it is
divisibility that continues
to flow. In red and gray streams.
Rushing my mind, her robes,
and your puddled opinions.
What a strange wave
we leave. All shaved, shined,
but still lost. Just outside
the idea[l] of communality.
Legal pads filled with partially
laden table, floor. Not
abandoned, just asided in attempt
to make space
for next muse-forced
minding. They flow past midnight,
into dawn, fumble
in frantic forage for pen. A long drive,
nightmare of paused
attempts to salvage brilliant bits of
verse. Days, weeks, months, later,
words found, retraced.
Fresh eyes finding
conjoinment of several parts. Finally,
a whole is formed.
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.