Ode to New York City
You are an island, a granite crust on a black platter of rivers,
You are the bus terminal of hope, you are a lost umbrella,
You exist as a landing field for helicopters.
You appeal to people who love water, people who want to fly,
People who want to show off and be bad, who get a kick
From Champagne. I am only looking for a toaster, and here
Two women stand behind a counter at the hardware store minding their cash registers
In their red apron uniforms. A points to B and says You know
What she did Saturday? She went skinny-dipping.
I have to ask where. B looks pleased with herself. The Harlem River. No fooling,
It’s where showoff boys used to dive and we giggling girls used to watch
Those bad boys. Times do change. B says I have to let my bad girl out sometimes.
Art Information
- "New York" © Michael Connors; morgueFile license.
Alicia Ostriker's most recent book of poems is The Old Woman, the Tulip, and the Dog. Her most recent volume of critical essays is Dancing at the Devil's Party: Poetry, Politics, and the Erotic.
Ostriker teaches in the Low-Residency MFA Program in Poetry and Poetry in Translation at Drew University.
