Toti O’Brien

End of the Peninsula

I had not been informed about the overpass
thin as a silk ribbon, stretched atop
tall pillars, like stems of concrete and steel
sprouted on dry, crumbling soil.

I had not understood about the convoy.
Didn’t know I would be towed by the tail
carriage, holding onto a scrap of cloth
with my teeth, like a trapeze artist.

Did I bite hard on that dirty kerchief, once
scarlet, now a mess of saliva and dust!
I knew I couldn’t let go. I had to follow.
Knew this was my last chance.

Strangely, I didn’t feel the friction of asphalt
rubbing against my skin. All I felt was the
strenuous effort of my clenched jaw.
Was I a corpse already?

As we rode upon the aerial causeway
a flash of cobalt seeped under my eyelids
from the invisible ocean, below. I smelled
salt mixed with tar.

I recalled how seismic our land once was.
I heard an echo of explosions from the
mountains. I remembered proud hamlets
claiming each its little hilltop.

Their names trickled on like a rosary.
Tiny towns. As we past, they fell like castles
of cards. With a sigh of surrender they met
the wide open mouth of the sea.

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Toti O’Brien is the Italian accordionist with the Irish last name. Born in Rome, living in Los Angeles, she is an artist, musician and dancer. She is also the author of Other Maidens (BlazeVOX, 2020), and An Alphabet of Birds (Moonrise Press, 2020).