Poem Hunter
Allium, Peeling Onions
LH ( / London)

Allium, Peeling Onions

Poem By Linda Hepner

Peeling onions with my naked nails
Oh how close I come to paring off my parchment skin
And on it I shall write: if all else fails
This you shall send to those I’ve harbored, allies, foe and kin:

Come here and read, my cold and heedless peers,
That I, constrained by expectations, image, hunger, need,
Have found beneath the skin a well of tears
And with serrated slicing into stinging flesh I’ve freed

The piercing fragrance live between each petal,
Layered bodies, one upon the other, sinew, bone,
Bleached by salt and sweat to pearly metal;
The bulby victim yields and each cut screams, no more, atone!

Until upon my maple board I Leah
Slice and chop and say my weeping is the blinding sun
That pierces through the glass like a betrayer
Waiting for my soup and sauces, sweeter once I’ve done.


User Rating: 4,8 / 5 ( 9 votes ) 8

Comments (8)

That pierces through the glass like a betrayer and peeling like onions by nail this provokes thought. This poem is very brilliantly and excellently penned...10
This poem has a coiled intensity which you kept tightening rather than releasing. I felt the tension grow in me as I read. Of the many comments that probed the motives and meanings behind the poem I think A. Sears had it right when he said, THERE'S TRUTH IN PAIN. Two things stand out for me: The tears you shed are real tears caused by the cut, not the false tears of slicing onions; you press on despite the pain. The speaker accepts this degree of suffering instead of running away from it. I don't know why, but I know she has that courage of persistence.
brilliant and captivating poetry this, i enjoyed the read.
Met this one about 2 years ago, suddenly remembered it last night, re-visited it just now...and have fallen in love with it all over again. It is mystical, deep, and, above all, beautiful. Love, Gina.
Ouch, to cut my finger... Pain and blood spills and does longly stay and linger. To give my sliced appendaged digit a much needed bath... I won't cook for a living, or go to school for typing or even take math. Math and onions i do not like... I'd rather have a tooth pulled or be super glued to a seatless one peddled down hill travelling brakeless bike. I'll only eat onions that are totally cooked...I wont go to a restaurant and look on a menue to oder it from the waitress, it will never be booked. Good poem and God bless-Mike Gale.