Self-Portrait as Green Onion

poetry 0
Connie Pan

 

Let’s talk about the quick memory of
a green onion: How—snipped down to the white
and, with water and omelet dreams, leaned in
a Steelers double shot glass or a long
emptied jar of capers or a keepsake
cup from New Orleans’ The Court of Two Sisters—
it thrusts itself toward the cirrostratus
like it knows precisely what’s in its soul,
never a doubt about purpose or error,
never reaching for the atlas, checking
the weather, puckering for a goodbye
kiss, even if it yearns for papaya
-laden air in every molecule,
the hug of dirt.

Originally from Maui, Hawai’i, Connie Pan earned an MFA in Fiction from West Virginia University and a BA in Creative Writing from Grand Valley State University. Her work has appeared in Bamboo Ridge, The Billfold, Book Riot, Carve, HelloGiggles, and elsewhere, and an excerpt from her novel-in-progress was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. A freelance writer, she lives in Coastal Mississippi with her partner and their dog.