The occasional morning
I was required to dress
like a man and not this
boy I was, Mother would send me
upstairs to you, to tie
the knot of my tie. This tie
was yours anyway. I’d ask
if I might wear it again,
having kept it with me since
the last time; amazed always
when you said, All right. Upright
in front of you and Mother’s
twin mirrors in the watery
winter light, while your fingers
worked the silken length,
then reworking, folding
the tie over, then around,
over and up to
my thin throat; having to start over
when the length turned out all wrong,
before turning brusquely down
the collar with your whistling
breath, your small eyes tightening on
the knot. I’m always surprised
you never taught me how
to do this for myself. I’m not surprised
I never learned.

From Scarsdale, published by Measure Press in the US and CB Editions in the UK.

Dan O’Brien’s fourth collection of poetry, Our Cancers, is forthcoming from Acre Books in 2021. His previously published collections are War Reporter (Hanging Loose Press in the US & CB Editions in the UK), which received the UK’s Fenton Aldeburgh Prize and was shortlisted for the Forward Prize for Best First Collection; New Life (Hanging Loose Press & CB Editions), and Scarsdale (Measure Press & CB Editions). As a playwright O’Brien’s recognition includes a Guggenheim Fellowship in Drama, the Horton Foote Prize, the Edward M. Kennedy Prize, a Rockefeller Foundation Residency in Bellagio, Italy, and two PEN America Awards. A collection of his essays on playwriting is forthcoming in 2021 from CB Editions in London. O’Brien lives in Los Angeles with his wife and young daughter.