Poetry : 'The Mailman' by Deborah Tobola

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ISSN: 1094-2726

Pif Magazine
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Sometimes I trade him a sestina for a sewer-and-water bill.
He's official, blue. Perhaps not
an even trade, a poem for a utility bill, but still
he's my man, my winged messenger, all I've got
in the way of neighborhood mythology. Moonlighting, he
conducts the souls of the dead to the underworld
and always respectfully, handing them their news almost apologetically.
Your letter read Perhaps you think this is Wonderland
and you are Alice? making me fall, spinning, down
and down the dark hole of the new world, the one
without you. My hero delivers the particular verbs and nouns
that once committed cannot be undone
and he waits faithfully, patiently, at the gate, his hand extended
to catch the catch in my voice, my reply to the world ended.

Deborah Tobola has been published in dozens of literary journals and anthologies, including: Poetry Cafe, Pigs 'n Poets, Eclectica, and The Astrophysicist's Tango Partner Speaks.

Awards include Academy of American Poets, three Pushcart nominations, and an Alaska State Council on the Arts fellowship in literature.

Deborah lives in Anchorage, where she works as an Arts & Media consultant.

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