I pick up pieces of the latest catastrophic shatter, no longer taking notice of what it is that broke. A plate, a car, my life, my heart, my mind, it is all the same menial process, repeated. I pack fragments in appropriate bins, most labeled recyclable, cart them to the curb. Wait. Carried off by predictable hands, I watch them go with an inevitable sigh, knowing tomorrow they will begin to return, rebuilt, another temporary whole.
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 is the editor for six online poetry journals for Kind of a Hurricane Press ( www.kindofahurricanepress.com ). Visit her Facebook and Twitter pages to find more about A.J. Huffman, including additional information and links to her work.
- The Dancer