deepundergroundpoetry.com

ONION

And my boots scuff at the heel
But I don't feel the chaff as I march
And my shirts fray at the cuff
Hurting rough beneath the starch
And this wart I grew in anger
And this ulcer out of hate
Like loving in Virginia
I need out of this state.

So I cook slow thyme and sage
And rub ginger with my finger
Making something out of nothing
That I found inside my fridge


And the onion catch my eyes
My heart's the rhythm of the knife
And the sun upon the porch shouts
Thank God I'm Alive
For I need nothing more than
The rest of my life
Written by whale
Published
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