Onion Man
Introduced by gentle touch to dry
cinnamon-stick skin
that crisply cracks in fault lines
shifted by smiling eyes.
Sniff the exuding wafts of recognition,
of bare fear,
of wakened pheromones dancing
in a hand shake.
Fingerlings, rooting trust finds
softened common ground,
thawing warmth.
A natural flush of maturation,
mellowed layers from dormancy peel
back an enclosing arm, an unexpected wrap
so, snug.
Pungent invitation swirls round my waist
to touch the translucence, torn –
my rising blood meets
that inner flesh
tenderly revealed.
Wait … consider the bitterness
Hungry, hand raised, eyes meet
with stinging tears; remorse, regret,
I pull back
from breaking
far more than bread
with this forbidden meal.
~
***
Crystal Snoddon is a fledgling writer from the frozen North (Northern Canada), who loves all things word related, wakes far too early in the morning to be a party animal and has a serious lust for poetry. 🙂
*Featured artwork courtesy of the brilliant Toby Penney. To learn more about her and what she does, check out our interview here: https://sicklitmagazine.com/2015/12/04/art-with-toby-penney/
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