Anna Evans Why There Are So Many Poems About Onions Did you know the potato dreams of being an onion? It would give its eyes for all those layers which peel away so easily, each one revealing a new flawless surface. Instead the knife exposes its single nature: honest laborer whose skin cannot be freed from ingrained dirt. Of course it craves richer flavors, but no fancy dressing can raise it much above cattle fodder. No-one explains to this poor, stupid starch: we cannot afford to let the things we live off make us weep. |