Onion Polluted Visions

All over the home

onions roam on paper legs

spreading acrid mist.


Static snakes of yarn

twist away from me on cloth

in a futile dance.


Tumbling biscuit crumbs

smash into cookies for ants,

hidden in seat cracks.


My all-star sneaker

has a hole straight through the star,

leading to midnight.


The white page brushes

in butterfly cheek kisses,

as water falls.


Scales are smudged,

soon the acrid scent leaves

and my vision clears.

One thought on “Onion Polluted Visions

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