The Skin I Choose
to wear is soiled. Smudged,
scarred, and scarcely identifiable
as my own I hold myself up
before the sun. I sparkle.
Alive, the pieces of me are print
[ed/ing] with visible soundings
of you. Wham, blam, bang. A touch
crashes like shotgun. I am
blue and silver and solidly under-
estimated [as a target]. Bullseye!
Bullshit! I am waiting for the sin
to dry. Shake it off. I’m a lizard baby.
Nail me to the wall. Just
understand, there is no guarantee.
Tomorrow’s scales already smell
of the same stain.
to wear is soiled. Smudged,
scarred, and scarcely identifiable
as my own I hold myself up
before the sun. I sparkle.
Alive, the pieces of me are print
[ed/ing] with visible soundings
of you. Wham, blam, bang. A touch
crashes like shotgun. I am
blue and silver and solidly under-
estimated [as a target]. Bullseye!
Bullshit! I am waiting for the sin
to dry. Shake it off. I’m a lizard baby.
Nail me to the wall. Just
understand, there is no guarantee.
Tomorrow’s scales already smell
of the same stain.
Necrophiliac
My temperature rises at the sight of blood
drained. I am
inexplicably drawn to the pallid
gray of freshly rotting flesh. More
malleable once rigor mortis fades. The cold
touch calls me. I cannot
help myself. Only death can
release me.
Vote Clothes
for pills. Yes, pills. All pills. No pill
uncoated. It is a cruel world,
and we should not have to suffer swallowing
gritty medications. This is the 21st Century,
we have electric
cars and satellite everything, my tongue
should never have to bear the bitter
indignity of a naked pill.
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 has is the editor for six 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/
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