Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Oldies II: the onions

the onions
november, 2006

today and two days ago i chopped onions.
i cut them up into neat little circles and then cubes.
i broke them into pieces, fingered them until they gave in,
submitted to my recipe.
and i cried. i couldn't stop.
i wanted to, but the smell, the sight, the fumes,
got into my eyes. seeped in and held there until i,
blinded, rushed to the sink and stood near the water.
single tears ran down my cheeks and i
let them be, because i wasn't ashamed. i went back to
my knife and cut scars into their perfect symmetry.
i can't get the smell off my hands.

i saw a picture of you today. i couldn't believe it.
it was you but it wasn't. same neck, same hair, same jacket,
eyes shaded, smile shot. i stared and felt the touch, i looked
and remembered the smells, i watched as you barely touched her,
memorized your face and the blankness that replaced me.
and i almost cried. i almost cried because of your
layers, your feelings, your indifference, your potency. i almost cried
because i made you run and made me turn to water. i almost
wept because i should be there, i should be her, i should mean
something. i can't wash you away, your smell, your looks, your words are
tattooed on me, permanently there. i almost cried.
but i stopped. i took a breath. i didn't cry because i knew
katie wouldn't want me to. i didn't cry because kerri wants me happy. i
forced tears back at bay because im in england -
this is my life now. this is me and my scarred life.
and look at me, content facade.
see my smile and know i’m forever broken. can't be
fixed, won't be fixed because your voice hangs over me,
your smell stays on my clothes, my vision blinded by you and water doesn't help.
still, i return to the stab of life, put on a smile,
my eyes as blank as yours.

in life we learn to love things that
don't love us back. we learn to keep
cutting, keep crying, we learn to keep washing.
we learn to keep.
we learn to love because we know
it's aroma is important, flavorful, full of
life. tell me, why do you waste your wildness
on life without love?

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