Finding no resolve
around the java gypsies in the subterranean
boutiques or at the Bohemian Hotel,
I forcefully regain myself.
After a steam pipe sleep,
I walk along the trolley tracks under black-barred
balconies and watch a wedding dress
being pulled by horse and carriage.
Having enough, I make my stand
on a sewer stamp,
in a park of fallen pine cones.
M. N. O’Brien received his B.A. from Roanoke College, where his work was published in On Concept’s Edge and received the Charles C. Wise Poetry Award. His work has been most recently published in The Camel Saloon, SOFTBLOW, Crack the Spine and Counterexample Poetics. He feels awkward writing in the third person and enjoys being repetitive, drinking ice coffee, listening to David Bowie, being repetitive and lame jokes.