Hills Without Elephants – by A.J. Huffman

 

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

The Ballerina Bows – by A.J. Huffman

 

The Ballerina Bows

to her own reflection, the lone
piece she cannot master. No twirling,
no turning, no launching into arms assumed
to be there. Nothing carried her here. Just the quiet face
of an empty studio surrounds her. It is indifferent to pain,
has seen it before in many forms. No
makeup, no camouflage, no costumes distract the glass.
as she swallows her weaknesses like razor blades. She waits,
watches closer to see if they will find a way to cut
their way back out.

 

 

 

 

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