Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Amy Huffman

Friendly? Flutter

The surf was a deafening as the silent touch
of hand against arm.  A subtle pull:
of wave and warmth and almost
swept away.  

My toes and thoughts tangled.  Tumbled.
Caught.  The direct flash
of the wind-brushed sand broke the spell.
Running backwards through mist and memories
I stumbled only twice.  Reconfiguring
the argument to a plea and back again.

I found the music.  Disturbingly distracting.
And drawing me into a blurred focus.  Land-
locked arms.  Smiling.  Drumming.  Twirling.
Rhythm forgoes responsibility.  And consequences
fall to the left of remembrance.

Three beats against the wind, and it’s easy.
When you are dancing with an angel,
you can easily forget ,to care,
that the devil wants ,you,
to go for a swim.

Purity's Vengeance

Little boys should never play
with matches inside a mind
field(ed) by timers and dice.
Duck! (Or was it dick?)  I know,
luck is not the lady you had hoped for.
Or the tramp you ran out the back.
Rather, she is a black-fisted bitch
with a paw for each of your eyes.
Scratch them out yourself.
Her nails are still wet. 
From leeching your brother's sin. 
You are an only child?
Well, only a child would latch
on to such irrelevant distinctions
in the face of such sanctimonious slaughter.

Get your point out of my face!

Before I show how hollow your pants really are.
Ah ha!  Now the true trick takes
shape.  Shadow and light
help my sight(ing).  Of your
most embellished guilts.  I'll take
two.  They are smaller than both of us
hoped.  (Let them go.)  You would
only choke on their seams.

Aligned.  Alight.

I count electric sheep
all night.  Their Frankenwool flames
dripping from fictitious hillsides.  I know
I lit the torches myself.  They Bah
Bah Bah me.  Bad!  But I am not
the scientist who infested them with this
dream life.  My nightmare
continues, a waking
                                 haunt, devoid of blinking.
At least such strobing would be soothing. 
Instead I shoot
thimbles at the ceiling, marking
their physical march across my psychic waves.

No comments:

Post a Comment