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I Made a Sandwich Today
by David GarnerI made a sandwich today.
With bread of course.
And turkey and lettuce and mayonnaise.
I took two pieces of whole wheat bread
and placed them on wax paper.
Side by side, they rested there.
One to my left. One to my right.
And on the bread, I spooned a little bit of mayonnaise.
A thin coat on each piece of bread,
I painted a blond canvas of yeast and grain
with a cream-white mixture of egg yolk, oil and vinegar.
On the piece of bread to my right,
I placed some shaved turkey right on top.
Then on top of the turkey,
I laid down a green-white leaf of crisp iceberg lettuce.
The piece of bread-to-my-left
had been slightly ignored up until now,
except for initially being held,
painted white and placed back down, mayonnaise-side up,
back on the table,
back onto the wax paper.
Ignored no more, I then lifted the bread-to-my-left,
turned it over face down
and placed it directly on top of the lettuce and turkey
and bread-to-my-right.
I then picked up my small creation
of meat and bread and mayonnaise
in both my hands
and maneuvered it,
manipulated the corners in such a way
so it would fit inside a baggie.
I repeated this task maybe
70, 80 times
in the basement of Our Lady of Pompei.
I then placed all the sandwiches in an open cardboard box.
This box was then handed off to a woman,
35 or 40 maybe, reddish hair, expensive sunglasses and a face mask,
a NIOSH N95 PARTICULATE RESPIRATOR,
to guard her from the heavy air of smoke, debris, asbestos and potential
airborne diseases.
Along with the box of sandwiches
and a trunkload of bottled water,
she was also given a piece of paper and a badge
for her to place on the drivers side of her dashboard
in order for her to gain entrance through the police
and their road blockade
on the corner of Houston and the Avenue of the Americas.
From this point on, she would drive downtown
through The City That Never Sleeps Ghost Town.
Her destination would be Reade and Duane Streets,
near and around what once stood tall,
The Twin Towers that fell this past Tuesday,
to deliver the water
to deliver the sandwiches
to deliver our love and our thanks
to the rescue teams and the iron workers and the other volunteers.
I made sandwiches today.
I made sandwiches today in the basement of Our Lady of Pompei.
11/09/2007 Author's Note: September 17, 2001
Posted on 11/09/2007
Copyright © 2025 David Garner
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 12/02/07 at 07:10 AM What a poem. It does not seem possible that you were able to write that. At the beginning the sandwich is singular, and the unsuspecting reader would think you were writing about making a sandwich. In such detail, with such method and concentration. About halfway through we go deeper (you've made 70 or 80 of them!) Then we are told where they are going. This progression is deep, meaningful, powerful. (Even the two slices/two towers looms symbolic. Finally instead of "I made a sandwich" you are saying you "made sandwiches". One strong reaction I have is--I have learned that in times such as these, the simple act, methodical, complete, is soothing and is all we can do. It is something that is under our control when all else is not. The details, and slow progression emphasizes this feeling. And then the realization that what you have done will soothe, comfort in a simple basic way those dealing with the complex and out of control situation directly. That you not only made the sandwiches but made this excellent poem achieves even more, and in a lasting way. |
| Posted by Genevieve Sturrock on 01/11/08 at 04:51 AM okay...starting reading this and was planning on a slightly sarcastic, yet admittedly immaturely funny, remark...but the words dried up in my head as i read on. beautiful, poetic and heart wrenching. |
| Posted by Carol Grant on 08/05/10 at 03:29 PM When I first started reading I thought that it was going to whimsical, entertaining. Then read further,
it caught my throat and by the time I got to the end, there were tears.
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| Posted by Mo Couts on 07/14/11 at 06:11 AM WOW! Like the others above me, in the beginning, I thought this was going to be a light-hearted poem, but it wound up being something completely NOT, yet beautiful and needed as well. |
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