In Time We Come to Be Whole
I
The sadness of the street of lonely women
mortgaged, monotonous, the treadmill of the pedestrian day
like a graceful bridge held up by harp strings
they are the embodiment of part music and part steel
Mortgaged, monotonous, the treadmill of the pedestrian day
they measure the progress of each cycle in baby steps
they are the embodiment of part music and part steel
with effort they tune the instrument of living
They measure the progress of each cycle in baby steps
like a graceful bridge held up by harp strings
with effort they tune the instrument of living
the sadness of the street of lonely women.
II
I am the imposter who stands on the hill
I survey the scenery, roads rocky with grief
ink spotted sidewalks and trees half dwarfed
I pretend to be whole while the empty side faces away
I survey the scenery, roads rocky with grief
bargain a kiss or two from the carnival barkers
I pretend to be whole while the empty side faces away
what a farce and I am the principal player
Bargain a kiss or two (or nine) from the carnival barkers
ink spotted sidewalks and trees half dwarfed
what a farce and I am the principal player
I am the imposter who stands on the hill.
III
The reverence of the street of lonely women
living half the wondrous aria of the every day
bursting pomegranate seeds joyfully on their tongues
they are the embodiment of part music and part steel
Living half the wondrous aria of the every day
they measure the progress of each cycle in baby steps
they are the embodiment of part music and part steel
with tears and laughter they tune the instrument of living
They measure the progress of each cycle in baby steps
bursting pomegranate seeds joyfully on their tongues
with tears and laughter they tune the instrument of living
the reverence of the street of lonely women.
He Is a Lucky Man
She feeds him caviar on the porch swing
fanning the breeze with hats and wilted airs
rumors of samba on the radio
wondering if this will be their last time.
Her sweetness like the fullest pears in spring
her smile the homing device for moonbeams
like cloudbursts plinking on an old tin roof
sorrow dances lightly on her shadow.
Nevertheless
His feet tap along on the weathered wood
with closed eyes they think back to Havana
another porch, those feelings of just right
he is a lucky man and he knows it.
Thief
He navigates the darkened hall
locking himself in the room
where she makes herself beautiful
each day. He lifts a
tissue tossed away,
bringing the kiss of Summer Peach
to his lips, he closes his eyes.
Jasmine and vanilla powders, perfumes
from trysts with other men he
wants to know it all.
He is shamed,
inflamed, a violator.
Reading the journal
tucked under her intimates would be
less personal.
Rancid and unapologetic
he slurks to the front room to join the others.
Sipping his Bordeaux his free hand taps
against his pocket, drumming the small
opalescent globe that is the essence of her.
He lifts his eyebrow in silent signal to his wife.
She gets her coat.
He has another appointment to attend to.
Tobi Alfier is a multiple Pushcart nominee and
multiple Best of the Net nominee. “Symmetry: earth and sky” was
published by Main Street Rag. Her chapbook “Grit & Grace” was
published by Orchard Street Press (March, 2021). She is co-editor of San Pedro
River Review (www.bluehorsepress.com).
I like "slurks". Did you make that up?
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