Onion

The parchment flakes
the colour of a dried-up bruise
then comes the underskin
sticking to the body
with such insolence
I poke the knife in
the point piercing a part
slanting it just so
the violet falls
Deeper
it thickens like a plot
of a story untold
The top is still an innocent flower
its petals closed tight
like the fist of a child
Cut it into half, cut it into half
I cannot
I peel
Layerslayerslayers
Ah, slayers!
Then I reach the white seed
intact
a pearl
Where are the chopped bits?
I don’t know
I have just opened up their world
and found myself within
This time
there were no tears.

~FV