poms, I prance, preen, pretend the world
hates me because I am
beautiful, not because I am
everybody’s name in time to some strange
rhythmic beat only I can hear. Bubble-
gum pop rocks explode in my brain(?), pep
my step, keep me from getting a grip
on sanity. I smile when they call me Barbie,
pause before the next
mirror, muse about my skirt and the potential
depth of its spinning flair.
Corner of S and M
is 50 shades grayer than any other
shadow the trashy-novel muse crawls into
at 3 a.m. Desperate for safety-
word-intersection-connection, she paints
herself smiling in latex, a masque
zipped shut at mouth. She becomes the latest
best-selling toy to poke at. Allowing
bastardization and abuse to continue
to fall, she believes it will quickly get lost
in the pool of green, growing beneath her feet.
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. Most recently, she has accepted the position as editor for four online poetry journals for Kind of a Hurricane Press ( www.kindofahurricanepress.com ). Find more about A.J. Huffman, including additional information and links to her work at http://www.facebook.com/
profile.php?id=100000191382454 and https://twitter.com/#!/ poetess222.