Layers
How easily happiness begins by dicing
onions,
You dice. You cry. You get it out.
For a dash of drama, put “The Warsaw
Concerto”
on the stereo. It peels your outer
layers
and pries open Sunday confessions.
The outer rim of the song, like the
onion
is strong. A torrent of spice and tears
runs wildly over my cutting board.
The heart is splayed open with the
horns’ fortissimo.
When the onions are transparent and mellow,
the Concerto has dwindled down to a
soft, still voice,
the piano sings and the onions whisper
in the pan.
Patty Cole
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