A few in skin
How eating an onion you become unreadable: A skin ensconcing
sea, and once done, back to the sky--
Your mouth a meeting-place,
and the hot chemicals of your mind.
You were eating
when we met, and so untreatable
in the usual ways. By my hand,
I counted three hearts in the room
where you, and I, and the onion
One, that all living things
are in love, two, that they don't wish
to escape, three
That accepting this, they dine.
So now it is the steel moon
and refusal to starve
and all its following stars for you,
shrouded by your own body
on an alone porch, with your feet
swung high above the garden.
"Some people," you say
"are still eating in twos," so
with an onion you become unmistakeable.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
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wow, this is beautiful.
ReplyDeleteI really enjoy this poem Lily, especially the three hearts...and this blog is great. I always saw eating as a pale and emotionless act, only physical and technical, crunching and mashing and disturbing sounds and all that...but this, this is different, and I like it!
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you're enjoying it! As they say, "Keep comin' back."
ReplyDelete--Lily