Tobi Alfier

Tipton Poetry Journal – Winter 2021

Two Hours by Train

Tobi Alfier

Last evening the rain was soft as a child’s footsteps sneaking down stairs to a heated front room. And on this late morning, out the lace-curtained window, on the mountain two hours away by train— a thick cover of snow, rarely seen by anyone in any season.

Mama and Junior turned the couch around so we could watch this lovely lady in her satin gown. How the light shimmered past the tree line. We knew this could not be embraced or kept except in memories. I ran and got my notebook

full of notes on all the sorrows and sadnesses of this failing town—dayworkers and old families stuck along the riverfront with nowhere to run. It was an honor to sketch the beauty of this view, a magnolia blossom in the dark hair of the mountain.

Mama made us pancakes. And hot chocolate. We ate right there, our eyes glued to the sight. Tonight we’ll light one candle, give thanks. For once I was a grateful daughter. I knew that never again would I get this story right.

Tobi Alfier is a multiple Pushcart nominee and multiple Best of the Net nominee. Slices of Alice & Other Character Studies was published by Cholla Needles Press. Symmetry: earth and sky was published by Main Street Rag. She is coeditor of San Pedro River Review(www.bluehorsepress.com) and lives in California.