By A. J. Huffman
I felt guilty
as the phone book slammed
to the ground like an anvil
in some childhood animation.
The whole scene was comical
from some outside perspective,
I’m sure. The terrifying arachnid creeping
through the kitchen, stalking its prey. Me,
a hundred times its size, cowering in the corner of
the couch, deperately trying to hold it
together long enough to find something to defend
myself with. Complete irrationality
reigned. Tragic death
dealt by swift throw. Survival,
the only sane thought
echoing over this battle site.
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 has is the editor for six online poetry journals for Kind of a Hurricane Press.
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