Academic journal article Michigan Quarterly Review

Staten Island Ferry

Academic journal article Michigan Quarterly Review

Staten Island Ferry

Article excerpt

Chelm had its theories, and Warsaw:

you hear one ear at a time-- but only the sound of your ears; the moon is a slice of cake--

the moon is a butter knife. What we had to know, we learned, the way hitchhikers from Montreal

in the absence of priests and maps learn somewhere west of Tulsa to spend afternoons at the Safeway

among aisles of frozen orange juice. In Kowloon, all brides eat beggar's chicken, and I was no exception. A cake in tiers,

raspberries shipped from Macao. Once you signed the ketubah right to left, it took. After their day jobs,

before their night jobs, boys in dragon boats strewed the harbor with pistachios, drumming to combinations of waves.

From a virgin, the oldest question: Can a tampon get lost inside my body? Next month she'll ask again, as though the circular were code, as though jewelweed weren't the remedy. A cramp in the last leg of our journey. As we finally master our cameras,

what claims our admiration? …

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