No Better Way
There was no better way to come
to America, than in a ship rolling
around in water, turning
my stomach inside out
like a wobbly pregnant girl.
No better way to move
towards the new country
than looking through the porthole’s
crystal ball, where the ocean’s
churned oblivion tried to form
my future. Nothing better than
the liner’s stacks releasing
smoke, three staunch women
incapable of holding
their laundry in the wind’s
powerful howl. The rail
on the side of the ship, a fork
trying to mark the high sea’s
irregular crust. So, when
I arrived in New York harbour,
flat as a well-made bed,
The Statue of Liberty’s flame
was a ticket, a reservation ,
for a room she still held for me.
•••
Nancy Anne Miller was born in Bermuda and has a MLitt in Creative Writing from the University of Glasgow. Her poems have appeared in Edinburgh Review, Stand, The Caribbean Writer, Journal of Caribbean Literatures, The Dalhousie Review, The Fiddlehead, Via, Hampden-Sydney Poetry Review and The Cordite Poetry Review, among others.About this entry
You’re currently reading “No Better Way,” an entry on tongues of the ocean
- Published:
- Sunday, July 18th, 2010 at 12:02 am


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