This poem is by my workshop teacher, Lorna Crozier, a well-known and very talented canadian writer (I'm so lucky to be learning from her!). I love this little poem - it's brilliant.
Onions
The onion loves the onion.
It hugs its many layers,
saying O, O, O,
each vowel smaller
than the last.
Some say it has no heart.
It doesn't need one.
It surrounds itself,
feels whole. Primordial.
First among vegetables.
If Eve had bitten it
instead of the apple,
how different
Paradise.
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Wow, I am totally impressed, as I am actually familiar with Lorna Crozier's work from a Canadian Lit course I took way back at Selkirk. There was a really great poem about the number "zero" that actually made it into my favourite poetry journal I had at the time (that was back when I used to have hobbies and interests outside of psychology, which grad school is slowly squelching). Now I just have to find someone outside of psych that is excited about my supervisor's research or cares that I met Kathleen McDermott (M of the DRM effect... now that's exciting... *sigh*... I'm such a loser).
-Norann (although I'm sure you figured that out from the geek-ish content of this posting)
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