Onion
My brown skin peeled
I’m white beneath
and crisp
each translucent layer
coming away
in the destroyer’s hands
till my heart is reached
and beached.
I’m cut, I bleed out clear fluid
that smarts the eyes,
I fight back, refuse
to be cut into, cut up, diced
without a struggle.
I linger on fingers and lips
and mouth.
I ruin lover’s trysts.
I leave my mark.
© Susan Jane Sims
“Invigorating and refreshing workshop today with Philip Lyons in Bristol. Highly recommended! Lots of inspiring exercises and food for thought! Thank you Sue for organizing.”
Rob Henley