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.
Counting Nothings
One drink would help me sleep.
Two would give me the courage to think
about the three words we both speak as lies
before lying next to each other. Five nights ago,
I counted six black feathers outside my window—
there should have been seven—
one for every deadly sin we had committed
against each other’s body. I closed my eyes
and waited for the eight angelic chimes
that would herald dawn, but I forgot
myself in the middle of a dream
about a cat that did not want
his nine lives. I swallowed them greedily,
waited for lightning to strike me for the tenth time,
but when I finally opened
my eyes, you and I were still alive
and bleeding tomorrow.
I prayed to the absence
of stars that morning would never come.
~
Ballerina Believing She is the Ghost of Music’s Past
Every footfall echoes like an anvil
of silence. A body—
too light—
forgets the idea of dizzy,
looks to a haloed moon for guidance,
hears nothing but her own
regret. A wind
whimpers in the distance,
divides
itself, gains cadence
and acceptance. Tireless
legs leap toward the dying
light,
fall short of total encapsulation.
A drop of sweat glitters like the North
Star. Her blood is reborn
as a momentary exhale,
hovering just before tomorrow’s dawn.