I Am Smoking
gun. A chair, sitting on a trap
door, I am cocked.
A lock with a key, I am broken
inside. I tick
like an alarm
clock. Strike one:
the safety has been released.
Strike two: I have never understood
the need for flint or fuel. Strike
three: I am more
incendiary than incidental.
I do not need a match
to make me burn.
I have swallowed your spite
until I vomited regret.
bells and whistles, the physical
manifestation of shrill. Amplified
like a drag-queen make-over, this polished
disco-fied slate built up from gray reflects,
The epitome of overstatement multiplies
inside itself. Beside itself,
becomes the [im]possible tunnel
to nowhere. Or infinity.
A.J. Huffman has published thirteen full-length poetry collections, thirteen solo poetry chapbooks and one joint poetry chapbook through various small presses. Her most recent releases, The Pyre On Which Tomorrow Burns (Scars Publications), Degeneration (Pink Girl Ink), A Bizarre Burning of Bees (Transcendent Zero Press), and Familiar Illusions (Flutter Press) are now available from their respective publishers. She is a five-time Pushcart Prize nominee, a two-time Best of Net nominee, and has published over 2600 poems in various national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, The Bookends Review, Bone Orchard, Corvus Review, EgoPHobia, and Kritya. She is the founding editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press.