A prayer can be anything
it needs to be—the lilac wound of dusk,
the deepening sky, wild vines
romping over broken fences…
A train’s headlight torches the dark night
and she prays—seeks the gentle voices
of those who surround her—women
in their long black skirts and arms
around each other to the songs of nightbirds.
She stands in a field starry with wildflowers
at night and she prays, asking for anything
—white sangria, a bowl of plums,
melody—her voice will never be more radiant
than when she sings prayers and cheatin’ songs.
She pleads in her heart as she watches her five-year-old
say to a lone dandelion in the morning you can’t live here.
In Her Secret Self by Tobi Alfier | Sandalwood Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
Tobi Alfier's credits include Arkansas Review, The American Journal of Poetry, Gargoyle, James Dickey Review, Jerry Jazz Musician, Louisiana Literature, ONEART, Permafrost, Prosetrics, Ragaire, and Washington Square Review. She is co-editor of San Pedro River Review (www.bluehorsepress.com).
