Poetry by Tobi Alfier

​Kimmo Räisänen CC



Letter to Mr. Wizard

Dear Mr. Wizard, please tell me a story. How can some people be so smart yet so skittery—as if they were a hummingbird kite let loose on a beach of wave and dunes, flying through the clouds, all thoughts flying with them. How can knowledge apply to some, while others merely look at themselves in mirrors and dissect their unattractive qualities—things that would never be said in private but always at family functions—when humiliating baggage rolls out like a carousel at the nightmare airport and all your ugly, fading print dresses spin around piece by piece to be further dismembered, laid open from memories ancient and modern. Explain the dichotomy of the term thoughtless innocence, and how that provides an excuse to be as hurtful as sound—when a fox grabs a chicken. When a deep bite of Absinthe sticks in the throat. When wind carves floating shapes through old signs creaking in an ancient town. When you wake in an unfamiliar bed, in an unexplored room, in an unknown apartment, tasting mouthwash and whiskey as you gulp for air and remember your failings. Please Mr. Wizard, explain how the rain, as it stretches across a quiet morning, can make everything healed. Scientifically. Emotionally. Intrinsically. Healed. The way a thief feels healed touching silver in an unlit house.



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Tobi Alfier is published nationally and internationally. Credits include War, Literature and the Arts, The American Journal of Poetry, KGB Bar Lit Mag, Washington Square Review, Cholla Needles, The Ogham Stone, Permafrost, Gargoyle, Arkansas Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, and others.  She is co-editor of San Pedro River Review (www.bluehorsepress.com).