Brigid Hannon

Ode to a Bar, or a City, or Maybe Just my Grandparents

It was Early Times
in my early years,
my Gram walking me
down Seneca St. in the sun.
She, keeper of the books; 
Poppa, sometimes,
keeper of a bar stool,
amongst the smells
of Guinness
and fry oil.
Long black coat
hanging in his closet,
reserved for parades
with his fellow Blackthorns-
top hats and white gloves,
walking sticks and silver cups.

St. Paddy's Day in Buffalo, 2022-
I step onto Seneca St. for a cigarette
amongst curly haired girls
with poufy dresses
dancing a jig along with the accordion player.
I puff,
and pray for Poppa,
for Gram,
no longer keeping books
here in her 91st year.
(They've been parading without Poppa
for a while now.)
I smell smoke and food,
the wind carrying laughter on its back.
My Celtic blood courses
as I consider
the children of immigrants,
and the life they gave to me. 
I smoke my cigarette to the filter,
my green sweater as deep as my pride
for a country I've never been to,
and a city I will never leave.

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Brigid Hannon is a writer from Buffalo, NY. Her poetry and short fiction have been featured in various online journals including the San Antonio Review, Ghost City Review, Soft Cartel, and Queen Mob’s Teahouse. Her first collection of poetry, A Lovely Wreckage, is available on Amazon.