By A.J. Huffman

from Icicles this Abstraction 

Vision equals illusion. 
What cannot be seen often retracts, 
refracts into brilliant array of perceived mobility. 
Angles hang, vacant vases of possibility. 
Look closer.   
Infinity dangles just below the light. 

I Am Staircase 

spiraling towards nowhere 
I will ever reach.  Archaic, 
I am kept in appreciation of past not function.   
I echo with memories, the soles of human retreat.   
Monstrous dust collector, I stand in silent corners  
and slowly rot. 

The Other Side of Our Desire 

My name is lightning. 
My touch is steel. 
Running cold 
                        and hot. 

I light your skin 
with lips of blush and blood. 
And silence 
                     is our dance. 

Beautiful. 
A show for any opened eye. 
But then it closes. 
Going dark. 

1 . . . 
            2 . . . 
                        3 . . . 

Our echo butchers the night. 
A marker. 
A record. 
Of how far we still have 
to come. 

A.J. Huffman is a poet and freelance writer in Daytona Beach, Florida. She has published 27 collections and chapbooks of poetry. In addition, she has published her work in numerous national and international literary journals. She is currently the editor for Kind of a Hurricane Press literary journals ( http://www.kindofahurricanepress.com ).

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