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
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
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 mother’s smile,
the gloss of tender grease.
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.