Skin Game

 

SKIN GAME
The skin separates from the onion
After losing moisture
And drying out
It breaks free, becoming papery thins
That scamper out the openings
Of their wire basket home
Floating weightlessly to the floor
When the breeze breezes through
They dance across my white tiles
Until the wind corrals them
By the room’s edge
A bother, a nuisance
It just adds to the dirty
What’s that internet?
Twenty uses for onion skins
I hear a snicker from the corner
~Barbara Miller
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Posted in Living abroad, writing

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