I like to watch an old man cutting a sandwich in half, maybe an ordinary cold roast beef on whole wheat bread, no pickles or onion, keeping his shaky hands steady by placing his forearms firm on the edge of the table and using both hands, the left to hold the sandwich in place, and the right to cut it surely, corner to corner, observing his progress through glasses that moments before he wiped with his napkin, and then to see him lift half onto the extra plate that he had asked the server to bring, and then to wait, offering the plate to his wife while she slowly unrolls her napkin and places her spoon, her knife and her fork in their proper places, then smooths the starched white napkin over her knees and meets his eyes and hold out both old hands to him. – Ted Kooser
4 thoughts on “sandwiches”
Kooser was, I believe, poet laureate of the USA for some time.
Once, I asked my sister-in-law, the wife of a LCMS pastor, now mission executive, to look at my work as a writer, and when she would see a sentence as long as the example above she would say, “I don’t even want to read this if you are going to have run on sentences”, to which I then replied, “I don’t care. It is the only way it makes sense”.
That is not a sentence it is a poem. 🙂 Google Kooser for more. You will be glad that you did.
Oh, so do I.