American Life in Poetry: Column 362



Sara Ries is a poet from Buffalo, N.Y., whose parents run a diner. Here’s one of her delightful poems about family life for a short order cook.

Fish Fry Daughter
Holiday Inn kitchen, the day I am born:

My father is frying fish for a party of seventeen

when the call comes from the hospital. He stays

until the batter is crispy, cold salads scooped

on platters, rye bread buttered.



Dad never told me this story.

He told my boyfriend, one short order cook to another.

Mom doesn’t know why Dad was late

for her screams and sweat on the hospital bed.

Once, when she was angry with him, she told me:

When your father finally got there, the nurse had to tell

him to get upstairs, “Your wife is having that baby now.”

I hope that when Dad first held me,

it was with haddock-scented hands, apron

over his black pants still sprinkled with flour,

forehead oily from standing over the deep fryer,

telling the fish to hurry hurry.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2010 by Sara Ries from her most recent book of poetry, Come In, We’re Open, National Federation of State Poetry Societies Press, 2010. Poem reprinted by permission of Sara Ries and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2012 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.