By Tobi Alfier
Cape Split is quite literally the “end of the world”
Pain is like the prenup you forgot to get,
it takes all the sweetness, leaves you
with the pawn tickets. You will never
be able to buy back an unfurled forehead,
true smile and the grace of comfort.
So you sit in the bar, listen to complaints
of other people’s unwanted houseguests,
drink just enough. One more winter
outlives its welcome as you as you lick
your cold lips, search for a warm face.
The weather is ice over shade,
you need an elbow to pity you home.
This is not the first time. The tide is out,
you are resting on mud, you need a pilot,
who knows your analogies are weak
and your pride is mighty. Like a ship a–sail
with no engine, you pray for wind to lead you
past the soft swell of young lovers to the breakwater
of hearth, to tea and the quiet compass of a stranger’s
voice bidding you safe travels, small hurts.
(This poem first appeared in Sterling Magazine)
About the Author: Tobi Alfier (Cogswell) is a multiple Pushcart nominee and multiple Best of the Net nominee. Her chapbook “Down Anstruther Way” (Scotland poems) was published by FutureCycle Press. Her full-length collection “Somewhere, Anywhere, Doesn’t Matter Where” was published by Aldrich Press. “Slices of Alice & Other Character Studies” was just published by Cholla Needles Press. She is co-editor of San Pedro River Review (www.bluehorsepress.com).