Amy Dougher-Solórzano: Pick of the Week [ed. Terence Winch]

 

 

 

 

 

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Still Life with Taylor Ham Sandwich

 

Anything can be an altar.

I skip Easter mass

to sit by the window

in my old bedroom.

(The walls are still pink

but the hospital bed

is new.)

April sun pools

on my father’s chest

& the tray of offerings

beside him:

a mug of coffee,

now cold;

quartered strawberries,

their red juices

seeping lazily

across the plate

toward the English muffin

with Taylor ham

& congealed eggs.

My father snores

& to me it is birdsong.

It reminds me

of an old photo

on my mother’s fridge:

him asleep in a beach chair

in Wildwood Crest:

mouth open,

one earbud dangling loose

like a new species of jellyfish.

Now he sleeps curled

in the nautilus shell

of his own spine,

coral pink bath towel

rolled & tucked

under his bad knee.

I like to imagine

he is being cradled

in the hand of a giant

I can’t see—

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Amy Dougher-Solórzano is a poet originally from Harrison, New Jersey. She holds an MFA in creative writing from Rutgers University-Newark, and a BS in chemical biology from Saint Joseph’s University. She was selected by the Fine Arts Work Center as a 24PearlStreet Scholar for Fall 2024. Her poems have appeared in New England Review and Rattle. She lives in Northern Virginia with her husband Aleck. [“Still Life with Taylor Ham Sandwich” first appeared in New England Review, Volume 46.1 in March 2025.]

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                                    A Sick Man in Bed, a Woman Praying to the Virgin and Child. Oil painting by Du Moulin, 1750.

Comments

[Clarinda]

Now he sleeps curled on the nautilus shell of his own spine”—amazing image in an amazing and beautiful poem. A brave and wise choice for Easter, Terence.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks, Clarinda.

[Sr. Leslie]

Oh my…what a poem…What an Easter poem…I am reading it in the Cathedral of St. John the Divine and all I can say is that this poem is what Easter is about …thank you Terence snd thank you Amy…

[Grace Cavalieri]

Absolutely magnificent. NEW JERSEY MAKES THE WORLD TAKES.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks, Leslie, and Happy Easter to you.

[Dr. Earle Hitchner]

I suppose this is the day of predictable reruns of BEN-HUR, starring Charlton Heston. I'll celebrate Easter Day with a sizzled slice of Taylor Pork Roll topped with melted cheese (NOT Velveeta) on a bun, as I did so many times as a kid in a Drexel Hill, Pa., rowhome and in a multiple-family-rented bungalow near the beach in, yes, Wildwood Crest, N.J. (One exception: I hated congealed eggs.) Amy Dougher-Solorzano's evocative poem excited both my salivary glands and my savory memories of being "down the shore" (a Philly expression). Her opening line "Anything can be an altar" is spot on because it affirms faith without the usual doctrinaire trappings. I wish I could have skipped Easter Mass, a de rigueuer family custom that also involved itchy new clothes and no smiles in any photo taken that day. Oddly enough, I miss that bygone time when my father and mother were still alive and telling their children to stop fidgeting before the camera. "Still Life with Taylor Ham Sandwich" is a poem that will stick with me, a former, towhead, scraped-knee, sunburned boy who grew up to achieve a doctorate in English and thus be even more appreciative of verse this deft and, yes, delicious. Bravissima from one "Big Five" alum (La Salle) to another (St. Joseph's)!

[Dr. Earle Hitchner]

Amy Dougher-Solorzano's poem reminded me of the verse by another St. Joseph's University alum: W.S. Di Piero. I can think of no higher compliment than that. (I hope I didn't break any rules by adding this, Terence. If I did, mea maxima culpa.)

[lally]

jersey girl tells it like it is, taylor ham our state's 'fry', expertly crafted (and cooked) poem, photo, and post, so many perfect details

[Amy Dougher-Solorzano]

So grateful to appear on the blog, Terence! As I mentioned over email, it's a really lovely "full-circle" moment to have a poem I wrote last Easter find its way to new readers today.

And thank you, all, for taking the time to read the poem and share such thoughtful, kind comments! It means a great deal.

@Clarinda -- It was so kind of you to write! I'm so pleased that the image of the nautilus shell resonated with you. I can't think of my father without thinking of my childhood summers at the Jersey Shore and all the little treasures of the ocean--mermaid's purses, sand dollars, seashells, etc.

@Sister Leslie -- Wishing you a very happy Easter! Your kind note is so appreciated. I was moved to hear that my poem was a small part of your spiritual practice today.

@Grace -- Thank you so much! The encouragement from a poet like yourself means the world to me. And YES, my heart will always be in New Jersey! Passing the 'Trenton Makes' Bridge is my favorite part of any Amtrak ride...

@Earle -- Your generous comment could be a poem in itself! It brought a huge smile to my face! I am so pleased that the poem resonated with you and brought back memories of childhood and all our favorite Philly- and Jersey-isms. And to be thought of in the same sentence as W.S. Di Piero is more than I deserve, but so, so appreciated! Happy Easter to you.

[Eileen Reich]

This is a beautiful and thoughtful poem. So perfect for Easter. I love it.

[Don Berger]

This poem's musical, precise and heartfelt observation leads us finally into that giant's hand, as stunning and original a metaphor as a reader cculd find. And the "nautilus shell / of his own spine" isn't too bad either. I love how Amy creates such a scene without once lapsing into predictable sentiment. I honor the poem's grace. It's a still life that lives in full.

[Kathleen O'Toole]

Thanks Terrance, and thanks Amy for taking us back, to childhood bedrooms, and tenderly to scenes that many of us have experienced in one form or another. Beautiful and excruciating too.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks for the comment, mo chara.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks, Amy.  Your poem is a definite hit.

[Richard Giannone]

This is a Jersey poem from Taylor Ham (or Pork Roll) to Wildwood. Seen through the eye of love, suffering and death touch on a new life in a new world. Blessings, Amy from a Jersey kid.