Friday, 30 December 2016

To Peel or Not To Peel by A.J. Huffman



“I am sorry the pears weren’t
pre-ordered,” said the woman
with the plastic shoe box full
of green and yellow, lined
end to stem.  A tiny mass coffin
for wayward fruit.  “They have
to go.”  Unchecked,
she carried them, a sole pallbearer,
to the trash.  No
ceremony, no speech.  Just plunk
and slam.  As the lid
closed on their lives we returned
to the mundane chores of ours.

*****

A.J. Huffman has published thirteen full-length poetry collections, thirteen solo poetry chapbooks and one joint poetry chapbook through various small presses.  Her most recent releases, The Pyre On Which Tomorrow Burns (Scars Publications), Degeneration (Pink Girl Ink), A Bizarre Burning of Bees (Transcendent Zero Press), and Familiar Illusions (Flutter Press) are now available from their respective publishers.  She is a five-time Pushcart Prize nominee, a two-time Best of Net nominee, and has published over 2600 poems in various national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, The Bookends Review, Bone Orchard, Corvus Review, EgoPHobia, and Kritya.

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