E-Chap – A. J. Huffman

Welcome to Frankenstein
A.J. Huffman
August 20, 2013

From Madness To Delight

I am so easily lost in your eyes,
and you are so easily God in mine
that together we are a kiss
so deadly, the sky blinks
black against not our light
but its own.

A Shift of Realities

Can the world be lost in a touch?
Yes, when that touch is yours.
I can feel it flying
through my life like a flame.
It’s heat seeking my soul.
Consuming it wholly.
Holy, I give in.
It isn’t a sacrifice.
The light in your eyes is enough
to fill and refill me
with an eternity
more expansive than any I could ever dream.

Hanging from Nothing

One look and I am
your instant addict,
dependent — wholly — upon your smile
and the golden ring you choose to wear
around your neck.
Though, often, it seems pale — more yellow than not.
It reminds me of a tie
or a halo that has missed its mark.
It never misses mine.
I can feel it stretching – closing
in around my neck
like a noose, but far less forgiving.
It just holds there, heavy,
threatening,
still.

In Empty Eternity

Here I am: a wasteland,
waiting to collect the scraps
you throw at my feet.
Will they build me or break me
behind this tired wired fence?
No others will pass over.
Your marks are too strong.
And I miss the traffic.
Those footprint-bruises that testified:
I was alive.
And worth something more
than dust.

Essence is Everything

Fire . . . water . . . salt.
These are the elements
of our love.
Our game:
Light one; Drown two
and grind the pain over all.
Master versus master.
We have each other covered.
We could play for ever
or for never.
It all depends on whose scars crack
first.

The Flood of Returning Sin

Your echo looks like me.
All dying in wavering circles.
And I am its soundless scream.
(Growing louder in your absence).
Touch me,
and watch the silence break.
But only for a second.
That much pain cannot be
interrupted for long.
The cycle must complete.
Or it cannot compete
with itself.
As I race headfirst for your shore.

Welcome to Frankenstein

Here is my finger.
There is a tired piece of skin.
Now watch closely.
I can weave you a monster
that will eat out of your hand,
or I can weave you a monster
that will eat your hand.
It’s your call.
And you’ll be surprised by your choice.
(I know I was).
But nobody’s perfect,
and real evil they say, like beauty,
is nowhere . . .
but in the eye of the [be]holder . . .

Courage of the Eye

Hell is not easily conquered.
Nor am I.
When, twice as hot, you turn
me against your face,
and blow — hoping I will crack
or crackle and float off like so much ash.
I am sorry.
I am not the dream you wished for.
Rather, I am the nightmare you are stuck to.
Here, let me pinch you.
Too bad, it is too late to wake
up.

The Burn of Colors

Can I watch the end of the world
from the center of a desert
overgrown with hate?
Or will these pillars
I have constructed lock me
in my state? Worse than death,
this life of solitude and heat has conquered
me. Twice. With nothing
less than nothing, I have surrendered
myself to the view:
Falling.
Falling.
Fallen
is still
an improvement from gone.

The Cry of a Mistaken Soul

Is there a choice for you
other than me? Is there another
nail waiting, empty on your wall?
No. Don’t answer.
I have seen its blood in your eyes.
I understand. You still cannot
set me free, and I could not go
far without my wings anyway.
Just turn me around.
Please.
I prefer not to see.
Screams in the dark
are enough to make me
believe you are still
real.

Running Through Delirium

I disintegrate inside
my own thoughts
every time your eyes leave me.
So alone. Inside this space
of a second, I cannot touch.
I cannot breathe. My body
falls: lame; turns
to ash and scatters
with a syllabic whisper:
Good-bye.

Night’s Reflection

In the unmade bed of the world,
you left me.
Crawling and crumpled
among the unwashed sheets
of my lifetime. Stained red,
I am as guilty as they are.
(And twice as silent).

In repentance,
I am praying.
[I know] I am paying
for your sin
as well as my own.

A.J. Huffman has published five solo chapbooks and one joint chapbook through various small presses. Her sixth solo chapbook will be published in October by Writing Knights Press. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee, and the winner of the 2012 Promise of Light Haiku Contest. Her poetry, fiction, and haiku have appeared in hundreds of national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, Bone Orchard, EgoPHobia, Kritya, 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. http://www.kindofahurricanepress.com

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