Pink elephants glitter through a memory
of a garden. Soaked in rain,
we dance so carefully. Echoing
each other’s indifference
regarding vision, we pattern a moon.
Dialed for futility,
invisible hands reached through
ghosts (broth present and unaccounted for).
Laughter lightening tongues
toward tales of fear and following. Our hands
folding inside each other as we cross
a bridge no one built to come out. Unscathed
is a fairy-told demon. We find
only slightly scarred is more reality’s toll.
Flock of feathered followers
pierce the clouds. Dollops of fuscia,
gold, and lime sizzle before igniting. Clouds
crack, open a peep show of silver linings.
Lighting spotlights the mountains’ misery.
1. . . 2. . . 3. . . Thunder matches angry
growl of night, resigns, fades from dripping red
Copyright©2013, by A.J. Huffman. All Rights Reserved.
A.J. Huffman is a poet and freelance writer in Daytona Beach, Florida. She has previously published six collections of poetry all available on Amazon.com. She has also published her work in numerous national and international literary journals. She is the editor for six online poetry journals for Kind of a Hurricane Press ( www.kindofahurricanepress.com ).