first line is from “Onions” by William Matthews.
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 pries
open Sunday confessions.
The outer layers of the
song like the onion
are 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 dwindles
down to a soft, still voice,
the piano sings and the
onions whisper in the pan.
By Patty Cole
from A Way I Sing
published by The Main Street Publishing
Company
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