I Am Crystal
ball. Clear orb
of glass. See into me.
See through me. I am not
what you think. I am smoke,
mirrored parlor trick, but still
the future you seek.
Trapped inside lagoon,
green vs. blue,
but the wind wins,
raises the point
of imperfection, until color
enough to counter current’s flow.
My Mother Covered My Bed
with junk food. Bags of chips,
nachos, pretzels, candy and cookies—
all leftovers from the Easter baskets.
She said the top of the stove—
their previous home—was getting too hot,
and she didn’t want to continue
to leave them up there. Despite the fact
there were multiple rooms to choose from,
mine seemed the most logical place.
I watched them lying
against my unmade comforter and shook
my head in frustrated disgust.
Of course it had to be my room, I was
the one currently on a diet.
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.