Gluttonous Poetry for Thanksgiving

Here’s a poem from the November 21, 2011 issue of The New Yorker – the Thanksgiving issue, which is purely about food, and therefore a very appropriate place for a passing mention of the glutton-of-all-gluttons. I have no real understanding of poetry, and I don’t claim to have any insight into this poem, but since wolverines make an appearance, it’s worth mentioning. This is reprinted without permission, but with respect, and without any profit-making motive, simply with the intent of compiling all references to wolverines. Happy Thanksgiving!

“Apotropaically,” by the way, indicates something that wards off evil.

EpicureanDanielle Chapman

On mosaic-tiled abalone stairs

the mayor one-upped a local genius

with one about a wolverine

who swam down from Eau Claire

for weasel season in the Chicago River.

All the pricklefeather ladies wore

coyote skulls instead of hats

to high tea at the Peninsula,

and a foam chest arrived at the door –

four flavors of cream and one blood-orange

sorbet in dry ice from Nairobi.

A forty-dollar tangerine of nutmeat

ribboned by slender Greek

fingers of lovers so charmed

his coifed stubble matched her armpit hairs

was handed to me, apotropaically,

while every day I remember reading

“Middlemarch” outside the zoo,

riding my bike into the Air&Water Show,

fuming at Bellow as the bombers tore

repellently close to the Hancock Tower,

pedalling away from Ashkenazi

with your smile slicing through me

ruthlessly as Rufus slamming the blade

through plush pastrami – Oh!

Intensity! What am I to do with you, I

whose only dream was to inspire

the celebrity chefs at war

to make with liquid nitrogen

what Murano glassblowers did with fire?


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