a national online publication of woodbury university

Candace Pearson


Onion cannot un-
dress herself. Will not.
Does not want to
for she loves her layers,
their gradations grown
round with dew,
seasons encircling
in a compact
of concealment.

Onion layers
all winter long.
Private. Inscrutable.
Building an orbit
of safety and enclosure,
wrapped in gauze.

Though unaccustomed
to peeling off a glove,
come sun, come heat,
onion sheds
her crisp brown organza.
It crinkles to the floor,

And in the cooking,
stripped bare (des nuda)
those layers
once so inseparable
willing or merely persuaded
to caramelize
and undress the possible
of change.

Photo Credit: Alexa Nuzzo
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