Whispered. By Another Whirl.

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Contributor: A.J. Huffman

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I want to spiral down
the wings of a marbalized dawn.
All gold and purple. Tinged red.
Would that be tainted? I guess
that would depend on the size
of the haloed hangover hovering like mist.
Desperately wanting to be fog
[gy]. Here at the bottom
of this well (and subsequently my will)
-tailored suite of mirrors, I am trusted
and reflecting nowhere fast.
Inside, this fathomless folly compounds. Me.
Beating [myself] in time to the music
of silent meditation. (And that fucking flute
fathers nothing!) Listen deeper.
Hear me drowning? Not waving.
That cataclysmic cluster sank. On Tuesday,
I’m a Friday girl. All leave, no luster.
Pick me, twist me, watch me fall.
I dissipate in rainbow kisses (still pissed
off at the wind).

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A.J. Huffman is a poet and freelance writer in Daytona Beach, Florida. She has published six collections of poetry, available on Amazon.com. She has published her work in numerous national and international literary journals. She is currently the editor for Kind of a Hurricane Press literary journals ( www.kindofahurricanepress.com ).


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