Onion Talk

“An onion is just an onion. You could put any vegetable in there.”
We are discussing “Monologue for an Onion,” a poem that I think is wonderful – and the one Maritza rushes to suggest when we’ve run short of time and need to choose only a few from the homework readings. “Oh, I just love this one.”
Woo hoo, I think to myself: someone else was drawn into the evocation of sounds (onion/union) and thoughts (Can we ever get to someone’s core? Is there a core? Do people have a central core or simply another layer of mystery? By probing too quickly into a relationship and demanding intimacy, do we destroy it? Can we know the depths of a person we love?).
“Think of the onion,” I begin, as soon as I have finished reading aloud and we are ready to talk about the poem; but I’m shouted down in the exuberant display of opinion.
“It could be any vegetable,” Josh repeats. “What do you want to be?”
I look from one class member to another, wondering how they would type themselves. Who’s a kiwi fruit? Who’s a banana? Are we talking about personality, or relationships, or performance in English class? Can we relate this back to Ginsberg’s tomatoes and avocados in “Supermarket in California” or Millay’s apples in the sonnets from Fatal Interview? Love is love, whether I’m using a rose or cowslips carried in my skirt or an onion to describe it. What kind of love?
“What about the symbolism?” I ask. “In ‘A Rose for Emily’ we had a rose; think about how the symbolism of an onion is different.” We return to the rings of meaning in the poem.
“An onion is an onion,” Josh repeats his major point.
“Poetry is not always easy to understand,” Whitney temporizes.
“There’s symbolism we do not have in another object. What about the apple?” I offer. “Think about how apples have parts – skin, the apple flesh, that central core – and if you turn an apple and cut it sideways…”
“You get a star!” Arreall and Kadie in unison are busily comparing notes on the beautiful five-pointed star in a hacked-apart apple.
Sarah leans into the discussion with rationality, looking at onions and life and love. Maritza interrupts Sarah and outshouts Josh. “You underestimate onions!”
There’s one of our thoughts in today’s discussion: never underestimate onions. Or classes when their thoughts catch fire and the stories and poems become part of their life experiences, much larger than one poem in the textbook.