A. J. Huffman

Betting on Rainbows

to fall short of promised destination.
Gold melting like chocolate, just out of reach.
Still I follow the ephemeral arches.  Unbelievable
as a Leprechaun’s emerald ensemble, I grip hope
with both hands, use it as a steering wheel.  Pray
I will find something tangible at the end.  Pray
I will recognize it in time to avoid inevitable crash.

Flash in the Pond

Turtle slowly treads across man-
made mimic of stream, blackened
to folly.  Spot
of green
	   dropped to ripple.
flare of koi erupts, brilliant red, yellow,
white, finned beats 
		        flashing in fractal
flow till toenail touches
cemented pathway, withdraws
from water, continues, unmoved
by the magic of its moment-
ary passing.

The Cozy Monotony of Our [Inter]Course

I spot your eyes.
And shudder.
Now you see
a million of me.
Yet still I cannot breathe.

You reach out.
And again.
But we are shifty.
All sin and skin and wings.
Shoved into a light.
Too bright.
And sickly orange
for your taste.

You manage to pin me
to your wall.
But another sets my self free.
Until I have bruises
all over my bodies.
Night comes to bandage us.
And whole again
I find you are tired.
Of this game.
And lost
to brighter shadows.
And less defined than my own.

Flights, Issue Seven, December 2022