Take Heart: A Conversation in Poetry: Sandwiches
Edited and introduced by Wesley McNair, Maine Poet Laureate
The poet Jorie Graham once wrote that a memory for a poet is an experience that has not yet been fully lived and waits for its second life in poetry. In today’s poem Pam Burr, of Brunswick, relives the memory of sandwiches that her mother once prepared for her school lunch.
Sandwiches by Pam Burr Smith
When I was young My mother made me sandwiches for lunch Butter on one slice of bread Mayo on the other Lettuce and tomato Bologna or salami Two slices always Or tuna salad or meatloafThese were big thick sandwiches That could fall apartNot like those one slice of bread One slice of ham One slice of bread sandwiches The cool kids hadI wanted everything the cool kids had And I wanted their dry little sandwiches, tooMine were so obviously made by a mother Clumsy in their over-love Every taste and vitamin she could pack into them Every morning too full too full I needed two napkins to eat themNot like the cool kids Who could hold a neat little sandwich In one hand While mine dribbled love Down my arm
Take Heart: A Conversation in Poetry is produced in collaboration with the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance. Poem copyright © 2011 by Pam Burr Smith. Reprinted from Heaven Jumping Woman, Moon Pie Press, 2011, by permission of Pam Burr Smith. Questions about submitting to Take Heart may be directed to David Turner, Special Assistant to the Maine Poet Laureate, at email@example.com or 207-228-8263.