Sarah D. Silvey

AKA onion blossoms. They’re always at state fairs and greasy steakhouses. Do people outside the States eat these? It’s one of those things that’s just so bad for you, but worth it. Like everything at the state fair, all of which is deep-fried. Cowdog Creatives and I were joking about writing a poem about onion blossoms, now it’s reality.

greasy witch hands reach upward

pointed fingers of batter

inside are pale, limp worm bones

lost vegetable, battered and fried into crustacean

oil pooled in pockets

golden anemone

god of saturated fats

I think there’s an onion in here somewhere

pick a piece like a flower

light, empty crisp

loose guts slip out

How are we going to finish this and then

a sodden cold napkin and dark brown leavings

which even we couldn’t face

throw it away, wipe our fingers

and pretend it didn’t happen

but evidence remains

in our fingers, breath, stomach gurgles