Invisible steam, furnished from the furnace
with spicy flames that noiselessly knell,
showed the red of a mortuary
making the hapless insides mightily well


it made the skin wry, raw and red –
tingled it to the very core,
oh, it set fire to the rain
that from the heavens did pour


with such force and unseen valor
that it brought destruction in its wake,
and it tortured outwards, not within
for those who might mistake


I couldn’t ask it to stop; could you?
it was ever more deaf than dumb
and so the fiery blades swished
viciously; till all the senses went numb
-Akanksha Gupta

2 responses to “CUTTING ONIONS

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