I Wanted Wings
when I laid on the beach
just beyond the house that was still
too definitively yours. I sank
my toes into the damp sand,
gave myself over to the sinking
feeling of being pulled under.
The cloudless sky offered no reprieve
for my burning. I had no doubt
I would be ashes soon,
and I imagined the kiss of evening’s
breeze lifting me—my charred darkness
blending seamlessly into a starless sky.
Higher and higher I would rise,
an arid wave, grateful
for a moment of effortless breathing
before the inevitable crash.
Crying in Implausible Buildings
You promised me nothing
and blamed me for everything
as I trembled in your dreams
like a rabbit far too aware
of the fox’s proximity.
I did my best
to mock your prayers and feign my innocence,
but I was born as guilty as the color red,
and frankly, enjoyed the sinister smell
of charring flesh—
even when there was still a possibility
that it was my own.
© A. J. Huffman
