The Calculus of Longing
Even a half-hearted kiss can heal
especially if it’s slow, in the barn,
in winter, with the heaters purring
as snow quietly falls.
Especially if you’re still fairly young,
ahead in school but behind in love,
allergic to hay so you sound like
you have sniffles but you don’t.
No friends to talk to,
no one to tell you the tickles down low
are normal, no one to tell you
that yes, the smell of your breath will change
and that’s how you’ll know
Curl together like a river flowing quietly
between stripped willows and spruce.
Gently listen for the quickened footsteps
of your hearts. Take refuge
in stunning melodies found deep inside
as you undo the life you’ve always known.
This is the winter you build yourself new.
.
Bitter Moon
Today the fierce sea winds pare
every spoken word to the bone
but you’ve already drunk everything
you needed to say
in the pub, really a shitty neighborhood bar
—license plates on the walls,
bras on the ceiling,
horrible FM station
playing 24/7 and the stage
always bare.
You trundle home
through a blank page
of untrodden snow
the moon thin and high.
Headlights on the esplanade
wash your shadow dim.
The sea on your left,
lonely guy apartments
on your right, and yours
is the loneliest.
A few bottles on the kitchen counter
seals unbroken as virgins,
cheap beers in the fridge, and bread.
You walk slowly,
watch the silhouette of someone
as they turn and walk inland
—they must have a story.
You replay the words you both said
between clinks of stinging ice,
drink your story into any ending it needs.
© Tobi Alfier
Tobi Alfier’s credits include Arkansas Review, The American Journal of Poetry, Cholla Needles, Gargoyle, James Dickey Review, KGB Bar Lit Mag, Louisiana Literature, Permafrost, Washington Square Review, and War, Literature and the Arts. She is co-editor of San Pedro River Review (www.bluehorsepress.com).
The Loch Raven Review 