🧅 Almost a Year.............

The onion is his head, the roots

 his wispy hair. She takes the knife

and runs it down his cheek,

sloughing the crackling skin.

The kitchen window is misted

from the borsch in the pan.

By candlelight, she peels back

the gilded skin and deposits it

in the peelings bin. Why is his face

so featureless? She takes the tip

of the knife and carves beady eyes

and a slit of pouting mouth.

It's almost a year, and she's survived

this long, despite the evil onion.

She trims the roots and flattens

them down, remarking to herself

how earless he is. Just the fumes

of this tyrant can make her cry.

He's alive now, a pale face that gloats

as her country floats in darkness.

Calmly, she takes the knife and slices

him six times this way

and six times the other, then

six times, to be certain, from ear to ear.

She picks up the board and slides

his remains into the borsch

that bubbles with homely goodness -

something to nourish the kids,

a recipe her mother taught her.        

courtesy eldest son

    🧅  

Apologies for not replying to comments on the previous post. 

Due to family reasons I shall not be visiting blogs, making comments, or writing any posts. 

Will return, hopefully, sooner rather than later.