Monday, 6 February 2017

A poem by Al Ortolani

Roseland Road House 


You left me after I was
knocked to the dance floor
by a boy with storied knuckles, more
seasoned, more muscled than I,
one of many who couldn’t hold
your gaze. As I was shuffled
from the back door, supported
by two of my friends,
I wish you had followed me
into the parking lot, and explained
the gap between us.
Anything would have sufficed,
even a lie, a story about the man
I was trying to become.






Al Ortolani’s newest collection of poems, Paper Birds Don’t Fly, was released in 2016 from New York Quarterly Books. His poetry and reviews have appeared in journals such as Rattle, Prairie Schooner, New Letters, and Word Riot. His poems been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, and he has recently been featured on Garrison Keillor’s The Writer’s Almanac. Currently, he teaches English in the Kansas City area.

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