Not a red rose or a satin heart.
I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.
Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.
I am trying to be truthful.
Not a cute card or a kissogram.
I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.
Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.
Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.
Commentary:
I include this poem today as it is so popular with many readers and the central image so effective at communicating the ambivalence of love. The ubiquitousness of an ‘onion’ provokes the surprise of the poem and everyone who has ever been in love can immediately relate to the uneven effects of intensity! Of course Carol Ann duffy wants to deconstruct the kitsch of Valentine’s day where love is commodified and wrapped or else deal with the repercussions! The poem forecfully wanders around the metaphorical possibilities of love as an onion and satisfies the reader with the witty intelligence of this conceit. That said, the cynicism and knowingness of Duffy’s speaker seem to work at just one level. Indeed this reads to me as a form of ‘poetic work -out’. Duffy flexes her poetic muscles and lo- here is a smart poem. It makes you smile and but is there anything else I wonder? Does any emotional residue remain? Perhaps it doesn’t need to. But I find this poem rather like candyfloss. Colourful and immediately edible but leaves you stil hungry and with sugar on your teeth!