ReadSpeaker:
ListenLarger documents may require additional load time.
Ether Dome
Poem, 2013
American Writer ( 1976 -)
The Carolina Quarterly. 63.1 (Spring 2013): p21.
Text:

   Massachusetts, the oyster has sand
   in her suit. We are born into this
   sweetness and liquor and grit. We
   watch the cars pass from the atrium
   of the Anesthesia Museum. We will
   buy a mask and dropper from the gift
   shop, a plush toy syringe. They come
   only in pink. Shucked, we're neither
   sleeping nor awake, Mars nor penis,
   crustacean nor skirt steak, vulva
   nor Venus, but the intestinal tract
   of the Cassiopeia jellyfish, spinning
   gold from orchids in the Whaler's
   Pulpit of New Bedford. Call me, Lovey,
   as we numb-up, as the fish speak
   in physics we mishear as blip-blip
.
   When we thaw, we will be angry
   in foreign languages. Little coastal
   ones. We will pray the tuna's
   on sale. 
Source Citation   (MLA 8th Edition)
Frank, Matthew Gavin. "Ether Dome." The Carolina Quarterly, vol. 63, no. 1, 2013, p. 21. Academic OneFile, go.galegroup.com%2Fps%2Fi.do%3Fp%3DAONE%26sw%3Dw%26u%3Dlom_nmichu%26v%3D2.1%26id%3DGALE%257CA330804296%26it%3Dr%26asid%3D75a2457f8b7658e0245ddf21ed7ed7b3. Accessed 24 Sept. 2017.

Gale Document Number: GALE|A330804296