Fried Beauty
by R. S. Gwynn
Glory be to God for breaded things—
Catfish, steak finger, pork chop, chicken thigh,
Sliced green tomatoes, pots full to the brim
With french fries, fritters, life-float onion rings,
Hushpuppies, okra golden to the eye,
That in all oils, corn or canola, swim
Toward mastication’s maw (O molared mouth!);
Whatever browns, is dumped to drain and dry
On paper towels’ sleek translucent scrim,
These greasy, battered bounties of the South:
Eat them.
About the Author:
R. S. Gwynn is a poet from Texas.
American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation, publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright © 2005 by R. S. Gwynn, whose most recent book of poetry is No Word of Farewell: Poems 1970-2000, Story Line Press, 2001. Poem reprinted from Light: A Quarterly of Light Verse, No. 50, Autumn, 2005, by permission of R. S. Gwynn.
