Sunday, February 17, 2019

Poetry Sunday


This past Thursday we celebrated Valentine's Day, our annual homage to romantic love and to the pocketbooks of the nation's florists, greeting card manufacturers, and candy makers. This week's poem takes a different look at the sort of gift one might give to one's Valentine ...

Valentine

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.
Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.


I like onions, but I think I'll stick with the cute card or the kissogram.

Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. More thoughts coming.

Bilbo

2 comments:

Mike said...

You can keep your onion.

Dave Peterson said...

Garlic. It's its own food group in our house.