Tomato sandwiches eaten at the end of August
by Nadine Ellsworth-Moran
Patience has a particular taste—
late summer harvest heirlooms,
streaked sunset skins. Pulpy cheeks
holding afternoon storms, seeds
to spill over knives. Each orb
a memory of warm mown grass,
herbal and green on the tongue.
Inside the flesh, a mineral tang—
water drawn up through red clay.
Bed the slices on thick bread
Spread with mayonnaise, each bite
forms full round vowels in the mouth.
late summer harvest heirlooms,
streaked sunset skins. Pulpy cheeks
holding afternoon storms, seeds
to spill over knives. Each orb
a memory of warm mown grass,
herbal and green on the tongue.
Inside the flesh, a mineral tang—
water drawn up through red clay.
Bed the slices on thick bread
Spread with mayonnaise, each bite
forms full round vowels in the mouth.
Nadine Ellsworth-Moran serves in ministry in Georgia. She is fascinated by the stories unfolding all around her and seeks to bring everyone into conversation around a common table. Her work has appeared in Emrys, Theophron, Thimble, Pensive, and Kakalak, among others. She lives with her husband and four unrepentant cats.