Hills Without Elephants

glow like twin moons, lost
to a distant skyline. I close my mind
like a window, leave
my eyes open as I make a wish
for occupancy. Silence
echoes back at me, a most unwelcome
response. I grab two markers –
neither true black – and color
the pain. The distortion is temporary,
but provides projections
that shimmer like giddy ghosts.

A.J. Huffman’s poetry, fiction, haiku, and photography have appeared in hundreds of national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, and Offerta Speciale, in which her work appeared in both English and Italian translation.  She is also the founding editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press. www.kindofahurricanepress.com