Three Poems by A.J. Huffman

Because Battery

acid does not contain caffeine, I pour

Diet Coke down my throat every morning, hoping

to either jump start my body or finish it off.  I move
egg whites around my breakfast plate with true indifference

while awaiting some physical response.  I listen to the clock tick,

like the time bomb my body has become, visualize

the completely unappetizing corrosion dissolving

portions of my stomach as I continue to drink.

Life is Like a Bag of Cheetos

Full of hard pieces, devoured

without thought of consequences.  Potential

choking hazards that dissolve,

a mouthful of memories that stain

everything they touch.

Simulated Beach

Dripping with unprotected layers of coconut

scented oil, I surrender myself to electric

clamshell.  Stretched inside this closed coffin,

I force-feed sounds of imitation

wind and waves through twin earbuds, entwined

in hair that never moves.  I bake to a bubbling

350.  Tan, I emerge without lines or grainy

tracks across my skin.

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