Monday, August 23, 2010

The Art of the Fried Green Tomato

The Art of the Fried Green Tomato

Ripe tomato seeds

are the sweetest sip of fruit—

a Southern girl’s pomegranate.

But summer means

green kisses cast iron

and the contents of a drippins cup.

This is no time to cut away skin.

Keep the flesh intact.

Keep the seeds

shining in the slices.

Against the knife

green and yellow

make stained glass

in this holiest of rooms.

Bathe the thin rings of un-ripened

in buttermilk.

This is no time for fine flour—

no tea party manners in this breading

but cracked grit against softness:

corn meal and black pepper.

Do not lick your fingers.

This is prayer:

bare feet pressing cold tile waiting

‘cause the oil does not yet smoke.

Bubbles hover as if in sap

or glass.

No violin can play sweeter

than the sizzle batter

in hot oil.

The golden brown and green is glorious:

the shades of backyard in July,

my eyes,

my mother’s smile,

the gloss of tender grease.


Author: Molly Meacham

Molly Meacham is a member of the Speak'Easy Poetry Ensemble in Chicago, IL. She and the ensemble have performed in Germany with Marc Smith for the Bertolt Brecht festival and at the Munich Literature Haus. Molly has performed across the US and in Australia. She has written and performed in a commercial for the Big Ten. She was also a finalist for the Write Bloody publishing company for manuscripts. She spends the rest of her time as a Chicago Public School teacher.