Sarah Mackey Kirby - HCR Award Winner

This Afternoon, Can We Talk About Tomato Sandwiches

 

with the last juicy heirlooms,

and how you’re either

a Hellman’s Mayonnaise family

or a Duke’s Mayonnaise family,

and how that was determined by your

grandmomma on your momma’s side,

and it’s just how it is, okay. And tomatoes

should be sun-warmed, sprinkled

with salt, loaded with pepper,

and placed between untoasted white bread

no matter how not-good-for-you

folks say white bread is.

Because can lunch

just be about tomatoes?

 

And later, can we drink iced tea

on our creaky wooden porch swing

in Kentucky. Watch the dog roll

in a dead squirrel, then dive on us

while we scream in horror

as she gives us dead squirrel

kisses because dead squirrel

kisses are the smelliest,

most delicious, most generous

of all dog kisses, according to

all dogs, especially ours.

 

No sadness. No little girls

swept up in Texas floods. No worries

about medical stuff. No talk of tariffs

or rural hospitals closi…wait, stop,

none of that. This afternoon,

can we wash the car with

the hose and a fat soapy

sponge. Call our friends

up and invite them over

for cards and talk about how

the Bengals lost to the Jets.

I mean for real,

to the friggin’ the Jets.

 

Tonight, can we sit on the patio

in jackets, candles flickering

with the stars. Go inside

and watch reruns of Cheers 

and shut out the noise.

All the noise. And all the stress.

And all the confusion. And all the worry

about grocery prices and fathers snatched away

from their kids on sidewalks and sorry,

oh my goodness, stop it, stop it, stop it…

 

Before we go to bed, can we argue

over the thermostat and not look

at our phones at all.

Plan our next trip to the beach

while our heads squish our pillows

and laugh about that one time

when a sadistic jellyfish

stung me from head to toe

that August in Georgia.

Can we discuss only that stuff.

Can we? Before we shut off the lights.

Sarah Mackey Kirby was born and raised among fat bumble bees and redbud trees in Louisville, Kentucky. She taught middle and high school social studies, which brought her incredible joy, laughs, and daily facepalms. Her poems appear in Chiron Review, Hobo Camp Review, ONE ART, Ploughshares, Third Wednesday Magazine, and elsewhere. She's the author of the poetry collection, The Taste of Your Music (Impspired, 2021) She loves to cook, dig in garden dirt, and root for University of Louisville basketball. Find Sarah's work at https://smkirby.com/