Tobi Alfier

Loving Emily

I went to her house.

You were lounged on her couch

in a jacket I didn’t know you owned,

feet up on her shabby table,

reading in silence.

I said let’s call Emily,

swing by her man’s house

and all meet for dinner.

You said something

I don’t recall, and I went

for the phone. On the floor,

four perfect stapled pages,

lined like your beloved

yellow pads. The heading said:

“The Week of Loving Emily”

Four pages of poems I didn’t know,

sent off to journals obscure to me,

the last two to the army. I knew

Emily’s man, a caber tossing

roughneck of a bloke, did not

write these. I knew they were yours.

Emily answered quite chirpy,

got less and less so as she explained

that no, it would not be a good

idea, her man was playing music

with friends, did not want company—

I was sad, got more and more down

as she spoke. I knew you were

not coming home with me.

Emily had a Scottish accent,

you did as well. I just left,

I don’t know how I sounded,

just broken hearted.

Massage Chairs

Crumpled – dollars pulled out of your pocket,

thrown on the table with almost disdain.

The way you form your lips when trying to

whistle, crooked and crumpled.  How I

feel when I fold myself on the massage chair,

legs turned under like the wings

of a bird fallen from under the eaves before

learning to fly.  Palms up in quiet surrender

I let everything go, folded and breathing

while a man who I don’t know

lifts my hair once, twice, and

lays palms to places only lovers should explore.

You don’t go there.  Ever?  I can’t remember.

I share secrets I don’t even know.

Tobi Alfier is a multiple Pushcart nominee and multiple Best of the Net nominee. Her full-length collection “Somewhere, Anywhere, Doesn’t Matter Where” was published by Kelsay Books. “Slices of Alice & Other Character Studies” was published by Cholla Needles Press. She is co-editor of San Pedro River Review (www.bluehorsepress.com).