Ode to Club Sandwich

A questionnaire asks
Have you lost interest in things
that used to bring you pleasure?

It’s the opposite, really. Things
are no longer interested
in pleasing me.

Ladies and gentlemen,
the future is between two pieces of bread.
As we speak, a board is convening

around a long oak table
for the quarterly meeting
where they cut things

from our lives. They vote to remove
the middle slice of the club,
reducing costs by almost a third.

Nothing is safe from the chopping block.
The board will get to everything
eventually. The legend says

a famous Earl invented it
so he could eat meat and play cards.
It doesn’t matter why he did it.

All suits are related–
cousins through political marriages.
The Queen of Hearts shipped

to the Clubs as a child to fortify
their alliance and so on.
It makes everything seem

insincere– like breathy pyromaniacs
calling into the firehouse afterwards,
asking: how big was it? How many trucks

did you send? Anybody hurt?
They’re the right questions, but you have to
wonder why they’re asking.


Christopher Blackman is a poet from Columbus, OH. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Burial Magazine, Cherry Tree, Lana Turner, Soft Union and the Kenyon Review. His book of poems, Three-Day Weekend, was a 2025 Mass Book Award nominee. He lives outside of Boston.

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